


we're living like we're gold

by nightsolong



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsolong/pseuds/nightsolong
Summary: Therese Belivet, NYU graduate and political aficionado, snags a job on Carol Aird's gubernatorial campaign. Shenanigans ensues.or: carol and therese conquer worlds and each other. multi-chapter.





	1. beginning

**Author's Note:**

> because it's been a little over a year since carol was released, and i'm still crazy about cate, rooney, and the masterpiece todd haynes was able to create with them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: therese makes little ripples in a gigantic pond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because it's been a little over a year since carol was released, and i'm still crazy about cate, rooney, and the masterpiece todd haynes was able to create with them.

The first time Therese meets her, she is young, innocent, and naive, a college student majoring in a field whose ruthlessness and atrocities are still foreign to her. Political science.

 

Therese lives for the rush of competition, the sudden boldness she finds within herself at the most critical moments. It’s what inspired her to go into politics. It’s what is keeping her here right now, at New York University, where she is a middle-class minnow in a sea of extremely rich, extremely bloodthirsty sharks. She still doesn’t know how the hell she got in.

 

Still, she loves the challenge.

 

She’s five minutes late to the lecture on the nature and scope of political philosophy. It’s a crisp autumn day, the leaves just beginning to fall on the campus lawn, and she spends a few minutes too long admiring the scenery from her seat outside the school coffee shop. She regrets it the moment she steps inside.

 

Still, despite the interruption, she goes unnoticed and manages to snag a seat in the back, next to her best friend Dannie. He shoots her a dirty look but moves his satchel over so she can sit down. “Maybe you shouldn’t be banging the girl in the dorm next door when you know we have a lecture at eight in the morning,” he hisses as she sits down. Therese suppresses a scoff and roots through her bag for a pen. “It happened  _ one time,”  _ she whispers fiercely, but the way he’s smirking tells her he isn’t all that upset about it.

 

Therese bites down on the side of her pen so she has hands to grab her notebook. When she sits up again, finally facing the front of room for the first time since she arrived, her curious green eyes land on the speaker standing in front of the mass of students inside the lecture hall.

 

She is tall, gorgeous, with short blonde hair and blue eyes that narrow ever so slightly as she surveys the young people in front of her. Therese thinks their gazes meet, that the woman’s eyes linger on hers for a moment longer than everyone else’s. She blushes.

 

(She’s probably wrong.)

 

“You didn’t tell me we’re having a guest lecturer,” Therese whispers, leaning over towards Dannie even as her eyes remain transfixed on the woman at the head of the room. “Maybe if you’d actually prepared for the lecture,” Dannie says, “you’d already know.”

 

Therese smiles.

 

The woman, who is addressed as Mrs. Aird when a student asks a question later, commands the audience with a strength and confidence Therese has yet to see in any of her professors. She’s an excellent public speaker, seemingly aloof yet friendly and personable at certain moments. Therese is in awe. She wants to speak with this woman, know everything about her career, her education, how she became such a convincing and strong orator, obviously so knowledgeable about the topic. She makes what they’re learning about  _ captivating,  _ and while Therese has always been interested in the blood and bones of what politics is, she’s never been so engrossed in a topic as during this lecture.

 

When Mrs. Aird stops speaking, almost an hour after the session began, the students applaud and begin packing up their belongings. Dannie does the same and nudges Therese towards the door. “C’mon, I want to grab some breakfast before our next class. I’m starving.”

 

But Therese is still enthralled, her eyes glued to the woman sifting through notes by the podium. She knows she only has a few minutes before Mrs. Aird is gone, her brief stay as a guest lecturer over as she returns to whatever life she leads. She has to act now.

 

“Wait up for me,” Therese says, hastily stuffing the notebook she’d written notes in vigorously into her bag and standing up. “I want to ask the lecturer a question before she leaves.”

 

Dannie sighs impatiently, but like the good friend he is, tells her he’ll be by the door when she’s done. Therese grins and begins pushing through the crowd and down the stairs to where her subject of interest is.

 

But by the time she makes her way past the tired students around her, who are gossipping amongst themselves and moving  _ as slow as humanly possible,  _ Mrs. Aird is already leaving through the door that leads to the faculty lounge. Professor Robicheck is beside her, animatedly discussing something, and Therese knows she’ll never get to her.

 

She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. 

 

_ Better luck next time. _

 

.

.

.

 

Therese spends the rest of her semester looking for lectures featuring the woman. She asks colleagues, studies the list of lectures this month and next, asks her professors and eventually discovers her first name is Carol.

 

Therese smiles at the discovery.  _ Carol Aird.  _

 

One night she looks her up, and after a bit of digging discovers she’s an associate at a law firm in the city. There’s a picture of her on the website, and a few hastily written lines about her alma mater, but other than that, she is a ghost. Therese remains one step behind her.

 

.

.

.

 

She pushes herself to the limit, working harder and harder and studying until her eyes are bloodshot and sore. Dannie is right beside her, pulling all-nighters in her dorm room for studying and banging on her door when she sleeps in late because of coursework the night before (and yes, sometimes because of her escapades with the girl next door). 

 

She kisses him on the cheek and buys him a coffee before class because really, she doesn’t have anyone but him. Not here, anyway.

 

Three years later, after blood (not really), sweat, and toil, Therese graduates at the top of her class. Dannie is right behind her. 

 

.

.

.

 

Therese is easily shooed in for a job as an assistant in a congressman’s office after graduation. Dannie works as a speechwriter with the New York City mayor. 

 

They met up for drinks on Fridays, and usually end up going to a movie on Saturdays because behind all his big talk about politics, Dannie is still a huge movie buff. Therese goes because it reminds her of adventures with her cousins to the dollar theater when she was small. Humble beginnings, she thinks, and grins as they walk down the sidewalk.

 

Money isn’t as tight as it was when she was in school. Sure, her salary isn’t amazing (yet), and she’s dealing with some student loans, but she paid for most of her schooling with scholarships and financial aid, so she isn’t that worried. At least, she tries not to be.

 

Still, she and Dannie share an apartment. It’s New York City, and no matter where she graduated from, she’s not  _ that  _ well off.

 

.

.

.

 

When the congressman she’s working for runs for reelection, Therese manages to snag a job on the campaign.

 

It’s a tough, grueling job, with days spent on the campaign trail and nights busy with preparation for the weeks ahead, but Therese lives for it. She wakes up bright and early each morning and works with a vigor that she is only just discovering in herself. It’s exhilarating. 

 

Her persistence and dedication pay off when the campaign manager, Abby Gerhard, takes a special interest in her. “You work hard, kid,” she says to her one day when she stays late going over notes after a city hall rally. “What have you been doing for the campaign so far?” Therese answers eagerly, telling the woman of her work behind the scenes, mostly menial tasks saved for those lowest on the totem pole. Unfortunately.

 

Abby nods and studies her for a few moments. “Come into headquarters an hour early tomorrow,” she says, running a hand through her cropped blonde hair, her brunette roots barely visible between her fingers. “I want you working with me from now on.”

 

Therese is shocked, and only just manages a nod. “You think you’re up for the challenge? It won’t be easy stuff.”

 

“Of course,” Therese says, but on the inside, she’s screaming  _ hell yes!  _ Abby smiles knowingly. 

 

.

.

.

 

Therese’s congressman wins reelection by a landslide. Therese beams as the polling results come in.

 

Abby puts in a good word for her with her superiors, and when the election ends and things go back to normal, Therese is promoted to a legislative assistant position. “You did some damn good work here, Therese,” Abby tells her on election night. It’s the first time she’s called her by her name and not  _ kid  _ or  _ Belivet.  _ Therese grins. “Next time I’m running a campaign, which should be soon, I want you working with me. You up for the challenge?”

 

It may be a little unprofessional, but this time Therese doesn’t hold back. “Hell yes,” she says, and Abby laughs.

 

About a year later, she’s working as a coordinator on a Massachusetts senator’s campaign. Therese is twenty-seven, her birthday in a few months, and living for her work. She wouldn’t change a thing, not even if someone paid her to.

 

Still, she sees Dannie less and less. He’s got some boyfriend named Jack, and between his work with the mayor and her infrequent commute between New York and Massachusetts, they rarely have time to meet up. 

 

It’s late one night when she wanders into her Massachusetts hotel room, exhausted from a long day and not quite ready to start another one. With the election coming in a little over a month, she has almost no time to spare. But when her phone lights up and Dannie’s name flashes on the screen, she grins.

 

She can always make time for him. 

 

“Hey, stranger,” he says into the phone, “where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you at the apartment in weeks. Have you got some secret girlfriend you’re staying with now?”

 

Therese laughs at his teasing, even as a lump begins to well up in her throat. As much as she lives for this work, it gets to her sometimes. “If this campaign can be considered my girlfriend, then yes,” she responds, collapsing back onto her bed. 

 

Dannie must be able to hear the exhaustion in her voice, the borderline sadness, because he perks up and gives her a few words of encouragement. “Well, I’m sure you’re kicking ass out there, sweetheart,” he says comfortingly. 

 

A tear rolls down her cheek at the nickname, but Therese smiles.

 

.

.

.

 

Another campaign victory brings lavish celebration. With the congressman, Therese hadn’t been important enough to partake in it, other than a bottle of cheap wine with the other aides before they went home. This time, however, Therese’s job is bigger, and she’s more well known, so she is invited to a party at the senator’s home a few days after the win. She’s reluctant to go, but Abby nudges her and insists she attend. “It’ll be fun, and you deserve it, kid. Plus it’ll give you the chance to get to know some more people. I can’t always be handing jobs to you.”

 

So Therese attends, feeling absolutely out of place as she wanders through the senator’s home, which is actually a  _ mansion  _ \- at least in her eyes. Abby introduces her to a few people, lawyers and political scientists and even a few White House staffers. She answers their questions politely, trying to seem as professional as possible, and is surprised when at the end of the night Abby tells her she’s impressed quite a few of them.

 

Therese leaves a few hours later, terribly exhausted and ready to head home to New York. She sees a flash of pale blonde hair in the doorway as she departs, and for a moment Therese looks back, feeling for some reason as if the face is familiar. But when she turns around, the woman is gone.

 

Therese spends the night driving, eager to get home. She arrives in New York early the next day.

 

.

.

.

 

“I’ve got a job for you,” Abby tells her on the phone one day as she locks her door and heads outside. She’d moved out of Dannie’s apartment a few months ago, knowing that he and Jack were serious enough to move in together, and had gotten her own a few blocks away from her workplace. 

 

“I thought you said you were going to stop handing jobs to me,” Therese says, trying to sound serious even as she grins. Another challenge, and an opportunity to work with Abby again? She’s not going to complain.

 

“Well if you don’t want it…’” Abby begins, but Therese instantly shuts her down. “No, I do!” She exclaims. She can feel Abby smiling through the phone.

 

“That’s what I thought,” she shoots back, and begins giving her the details. “It’s a bigger campaign this time. Gubernatorial. I’ve got a friend eyeing the governor’s seat, and I think she’s got what it takes.” Abby pauses for a moment, sucking in a breath. Therese barely hears it over the line, but by now she knows Abby well enough to be able to tell something is wrong. 

 

“But?” she asks.

 

“But it’s not going to be easy.”

 

“What about it is getting to you?”

 

Abby sighs reluctantly, waits a few moments as if weighing the options over in her head. “Well, the candidate is a woman. And she’s divorced.” Another pause. “The fact that she’s a woman doesn’t worry me, but when you add in her marital status, voters get uneasy. They want someone they can trust. And divorced doesn’t exactly scream upright.”

 

Therese nods as she slips into her taxi, throwing her briefcase in before her. Abby is right to be skeptical. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t accept the challenge.

 

“You can handle it,” Therese says easily. Abby scoffs. “Oh, I know I can. I just wanted to make sure  _ you  _ could.” Therese smiles. “Of course I can. Why did you worry?”

 

“Because I’m going to make you press secretary for the campaign.”

 

Therese gasps. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah. You’re one of the people I trust the most, Therese, so that’s why I’m putting you on this. Her image and the way we portray her to the press is going to be everything.” Therese nods, already going over the next several months in her mind, the planning, the strategy, the execution. When she hears Abby’s signature line, Therese grins.

 

“You up for the challenge?”

 

_ “Always.” _

 

.

.

.

 

Carol Aird. _ It’s fucking Carol Aird. _

 

They’re at Abby’s house, a quaint little brownstone in Upper Manhattan, and Therese is meeting their candidate for the first time. Abby had suggested they have dinner, the three of them plus the chief information officer, Phil McElroy (who oddly enough happens to be Dannie’s older brother), just to get to know each other.

 

Therese’s eyes widen and she almost drops the wine glass in her hand when she sees her. Abby ushers her in through the front door, and immediately the ambiance of the room changes. Phil looks up, as does Therese, and suddenly it’s like she’s back in that lecture hall at NYU, absolutely starstruck by the woman commanding the room. 

 

“Phil, Therese, I’d like you to meet Carol Aird, New York’s next governor.”   
  


They make eye contact, and Therese has to force herself not to gasp when Carol smiles and crosses the room towards her. “Carol Aird,” she introduces herself, voice formal and polite the way she will no doubt have to use with campaign donors and members of the press in the weeks to come, yet soft and intimate, as if the moment is for just the two of them.  _ Damn, she’s good.  _

 

Therese smiles and ignores the goosebumps that rise on her arm when they shake hands. “Therese Belivet.”   
  


“So you’re the one that’s going to make me look like a million dollars in front of the people?”

 

_ I’ll hardly have to try,  _ Therese thinks, marveling at her unique beauty. “Hopefully I do you justice.”

 

“Let’s hope,” Carol says, turning around to speak with Phil. Therese grins.

  
Is that a challenge?


	2. too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: carol and therese are lost in space before eventually crashing together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me just say: I LOVE THIS FANDOM. i woke up this morning to a shocking (at least for me) amount of reviews on this story, and i appreciate it so much. please believe that. i've written dozens of stories for other fandoms and received almost no feedback at all, positive or negative. so thank you all.

Four weeks later, Carol Aird formally announces her bid for the governor’s office.

 

Therese stands dutifully beside Abby as Carol gives her speech, smiling warmly yet her voice bold and strong, commanding the audience the way she always does. Therese had thought that very first day that she was a remarkable orator. She should have known that something like this would be in Carol’s future.

 

“How did I do?” Carol asks her when she’s finished, smirking ever so slightly. Therese tries to seem nonchalant, but gives it up so she can congratulate Carol the way she deserves. “Brilliant.”

 

Carol smiles.

 

The majority of the other staff positions have already been filled. They’ve got Genevieve Cantrell as a fundraising director, a man named Tommy Tucker for volunteer coordinator, Jeanette Harrison as campaign accountant. Still, Therese manages to get Dannie a job working with her. He grins and says he’s grateful for any position, as long as he’s not working under his brother.

 

The campaign is up and running before Therese knows it, and she’s instantly thrown into the heat of it all. She schedules interviews, writes press releases, prepares for press conferences. It’s a little too soon to determine whether or not voters are skeptical of Carol as a single mother, but Therese hopes for the best. 

 

With a team as great as theirs, they should be able to handle anything.

 

.

.

.

 

Carol brings her daughter, Rindy, to campaign headquarters one day.

 

It’s only for a quick visit, but the moment Therese picks up on their dynamic she knows she absolutely has to use them together. The way Carol dotes on Rindy, takes care of her and devotes her every move to her, is golden. Rindy brings out a smile in the woman Therese has never seen before. 

 

It’s beautiful.

 

“Your daughter is an asset, Mrs. Aird, and our best move is to use her,” Therese explains later that day, after Rindy has left. Carol turns around with a fire in her eyes Therese is  _ not  _ expecting. “Did you just refer to my daughter as an  _ asset  _ to be  _ used?”  _ Her ferocity is terrifying, and Therese takes a shaky step back, but if anything it only proves her point.

 

It is this thought in mind that forces Therese to stand her ground and not flinch under Carol’s unwavering gaze. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s true. From a strategic standpoint, that’s exactly what your daughter is: an asset. Now, I don’t intend to exploit her or do anything that you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with, but if she helps us show the people what a caring and compassionate person you are, we have to take advantage of that.” Therese takes a deep breath. “ I saw you with her today, and it was… It was beautiful. We have to use that. We have to show them who you are.”

 

Carol is still glaring at her, but her eyes eventually soften, those icy cobalt orbs relaxing into calm blue oceans. “Okay,” she says, studying Therese intently. “If that’s what you believe will work.”

 

“It will,” Therese says eagerly. “I promise.”

 

Carol nods. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

 

.

.

.

 

Weeks pass. The election heats up, and so do Therese’s feelings for Carol.

 

At first it’s harmless, nothing but simple admiration for an incredible woman. Carol is captivating, both onstage and off. Therese sees it as they work, going over speeches and discussing Carol’s views on certain issues. She has a fire burning inside her, absolute conviction that makes her seem indestructible, and Therese is enthralled by it. The whole team is. And really, how can you not be? The woman is extraordinary. Therese admires her, wants to be just like her.

 

And then it changes. 

 

It’s in the little things, Therese thinks: the quiet moments in the middle of the day, when Carol pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose and brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes, or when she brings in Rindy and plays with her, hide-and-go seek throughout the building’s hallways and Jenga in the middle of a budgets meeting, when her daughter just can’t wait any longer. It’s in the smiles that grace her lips when Therese says little things, like  _ you were brilliant out there  _ or  _ you’re amazing.  _

 

Therese doesn’t know how it happens, but she falls for her.

 

“You’re here awfully late,” Carol says to her one evening, as they’re clearing up after a day’s work. “Don’t you have someone to go home to?”

 

Therese smirks, slips a paper into a folder. “No,” she says flatly, because there’s no other answer.

 

Her response must please Carol, because she smiles. “But you wish you did.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Therese responds, wondering why she would think that. Was there a hint of longing in Therese’s voice she hadn’t meant for Carol to hear? “I mean, if the right one came along, yes. But that hasn’t happened.”

 

Carol nods, and suddenly she looks pensive, as if she understands and maybe even relates to what Therese is saying. “If the right one came along…” she muses, gaze far off.

 

What Therese wants to say is that the right one already  _ has  _ come along.

 

She doesn’t.

 

.

.

.

 

Carol wins the primaries easily. She selects George Semco as her lieutenant governor, and with that, the general election begins.

 

She is now facing the incumbent governor. He’s a kind, respectable man, generally liked by the public, which is what worries Therese. She’ll either have to make Carol rise above him in some way or work to damage his reputation in order to turn the election in their favor. 

 

But she’s never been one for dirty politics. She knows how rough it can be, how ruthless some politicians and their staff are, and she doesn’t want to sink to that level. Neither does Abby.

 

So she pushes onward.

 

.

.

.

 

It happens unexpectedly, the way all the best things do.

 

It’s a month into the general election, and the team is worn out. Carol had done so well in the eyes of the people for so long, coming off as a strong, family-oriented woman who, despite being divorced, still cares about her daughter’s childhood and the importance of having two loving parents. Carol’s ex-husband, Harge, had even agreed to go out with Carol and his daughter for an afternoon in the park a few times, giving the press the chance to get photos of the trio and allow the campaign to reveal the cordial relationship between exes. Carol’s popularity had skyrocketed for a few weeks.

 

The opposing campaign, obviously up against the wall, had then decided to spread rumors. They’d claimed Carol’s infidelity had been the catalyst in her divorce from Harge, something that was completely untrue. Therese and the campaign had been able to clear everything up, but in the process Carol’s, ratings had suffered. 

 

Needless to say, they’re still trying to come back from that.

 

Phil opens a bottle of wine at the end of the day, obviously trying to take the edge off the main campaign staffers. Genevieve offers Therese a glass, and she hesitates, knowing the campaign headquarters probably isn’t the best place to be drinking alcohol. But Carol takes a glass, something she has never done before, so Therese figures she probably has the green light to do the same.

 

“I feel like  _ shit, _ ” Tommy says, and the group laughs. Therese leans back in her seat and casts a hesitant glance over at Carol. To her surprise, Carol looks up and smiles gently. 

 

It’s the first time she’s seen her smile all week.

 

They all empty their glasses quickly, and Jeanette begins pouring a second round. Therese lets her glass be filled before she can convince herself otherwise.  _ I need a break,  _ she thinks, and it’s true. This week has been hell.

 

“I can’t wait to watch Haymes get his ass kicked at the end of all this,” Phil muses, twirling his glass haphazardly as he wanders through the room. Abby sighs. “I’ll drink to that.” She raises her glass, and the team cheers, albeit unenthusiastically.

 

They drink for forty-five minutes are so, indulging themselves but not to the point that they’re inebriated. They’re all too smart for that. Therese watches the clock morosely, wanting to slip into the next room to finish some last minute press releases. But her friends want her company right now, need it, even, so she stays. 

 

Plus Carol is here, and despite being in a room full of colleagues, she looks incredibly lonely. It breaks Therese’s heart.

 

By a quarter to eleven, Genevieve and Jeanette have left, and Abby is on her way out. She goes over tomorrow’s schedule with Carol for a few moments, Carol who is sipping her wine with a desperation Therese has never seen in her before. It worries her, but she knows that Carol is too smart to put herself in a vulnerable position. She can take care of herself.

 

Still, when Abby moves towards the exit, Therese pulls her aside. “Is Carol okay?” she asks quietly, not wanting to seem as worried as she really is.

 

Abby nods easily. “Of course. She’s just overwhelmed, needs a break. And other than us, she doesn’t really have anyone.”

 

Her response doesn’t comfort Therese as much as she’d like. “Okay. Have a good night, Abby.”

 

Abby gives her a small salute as she walks out. “Be a good girl, Therese,” she says with a smirk. Therese doesn’t know what she means.

 

Yet.

 

Tommy and Phil linger for fifteen minutes before packing up the wine and heading home. As Therese watches their cars pull out of the parking lot and into the warm New York night, it occurs to her that she and Carol are the only two left in the building. For some reason it worries her.

 

She moves away from the window and begins picking up the scattered materials on the table. They’d had a strategy meeting today, and it had proven just how difficult some days are for the team. Therese had found it funny how easily a bit of bad press could shake the entire campaign. It had only solidified their belief in the importance of her job, and she’s eager to turn things around.

 

Still, it weighs heavily on her shoulders. Just the thought of it makes Therese sigh in exhaustion.

 

“You work too much,” Carol says, and suddenly Therese is reminded of her presence. She absolutely commands the room while at work, makes everyone aware of and fixated on her presence. So to see how easily Carol manages to fade into the background and make herself unknown when she wants to is incredible to Therese. Yet another thing for her to admire about the woman.

 

“I don’t work enough,” Therese responds, and while she means for it to sound teasing, it comes out flat and tired.

 

They sit in silence for a minute or so, Carol swirling the contents of her glass with a slim wrist and Therese dutifully cleaning up after her colleagues. Carol’s bracelets chime ever so gently against the wine glass. It’s the only sound in the room other than Therese’s gentle breathing.

 

“You should take a few days off,” Therese says after a while, thumbing through a few files and stacking them neatly on the table. It’s not necessarily a wise suggestion, not in the middle of the election, but she could use it. Therese sees that now more than ever.

 

“And do what?” Carol asks, finishing off what’s left of her drink. “Take a vacation?” She scoffs, and Therese feels stupid for even bringing it up.

 

“I don’t know. Spend time with your daughter, give yourself the chance to catch your breath. This can’t be easy on you, Carol.” She has only ever called Carol by her first name a few times before. It feels forbidden, almost, like it isn’t her place.

 

“I can handle it,” Carol says, raising her chin defiantly. A ghost of a smile glides onto Therese’s lips. “Besides, I like to stay on my feet. I have to with a job like this.”

 

“You work too much,” Therese says, not holding back her smile anymore.

 

Carol looks at her and smirks. “I don’t work enough.”

 

Carol helps her clean up the rest of the room. They work silently, moving side by side with a rapport Therese has never seen before, or at least never noticed. She catches Carol studying her at different moments, when it’s quiet and she thinks Therese isn’t paying attention. Or maybe she knows Therese is watching, wants her to. God knows how much Therese wants that to be the truth.

 

Carol’s fingertips brush against her shoulders as she glides past her and reaches for her purse. “Please don’t tell me you’re staying longer,” she says with a slight smile, and Therese laughs. “Well, I  _ wanted  _ to, but I suppose I should get some rest…”   
  


“You should,” Carol says firmly, and it makes her smile.

 

.

.

.

 

They walk out to their cars quietly, the silence between them stifling. Therese blames it on the humid night around them. Her arm brushes against Carol’s as they walk, and suddenly she knows what is going to happen, what she will become. Somehow it seems familiar, like she’s been here a thousand times before.

 

And maybe she has. Maybe in every universe, in every lifetime, Carol finds her, and  _ chooses _ her.

 

Therese would do the same, no matter the obstacles.

 

Her breath is tight in her chest all of the sudden, and as Carol stops in front of her car, Therese realizes her own is parked right next to it. They’re the only two in the parking lot. It’s something like fate, Therese thinks, and suddenly she feels extremely bold. 

 

Carol is right there, only inches away from her. She can see the woman’s stormy blue eyes even in the darkness. She thinks they are shining, with anticipation or fear or something else entirely. They are beautiful, and when they find Therese’s emerald green ones, it’s final. It’s the end, or maybe it’s the beginning. She doesn’t know.

 

They move forward together, like dancers in a ballet, the only two on stage. It’s made for them. It’s perfect. Carol’s hands find her waist, and Therese’s fingers brush against her jaw, and suddenly they are one.

 

_ It’s perfect. _

 

When their lips finally meet, a world is born around them.


	3. weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: interesting facts about carol come to light, abby's gaydar is put to good use, and therese deciphers cheese platter analogies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title change because i felt like one.

When Therese pulls into the parking lot of campaign headquarters the next day, Carol’s car is already there.

 

Her heart sinks into her chest, but she walks inside anyway.

 

It’s early, a quarter to six. The sun is just starting to come up, its brilliant rays shining in between the buildings and trees, and Therese takes a moment to bask in its warmth before facing whatever unpredictable mood she will find Carol in when she walks inside.

 

Her mind wanders back to last night, when she had stood in this very spot and kissed Carol, let Carol kiss  _ her.  _ It had been magnificent, like something she had spent her whole life yearning for, but when they finally pulled away Carol’s eyes had widened with shock. Therese had tasted the rich wine they’d had earlier on her lips, and she knew then that was the excuse the woman would use.

 

Sure enough, Carol had stumbled back as fast as they’d been brought together. “I - I’m sorry,” she’d mumbled. “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m sorry.” Therese knew the woman wasn’t drunk, would never be ignorant enough to put herself in a position as vulnerable as that. But she accepted her excuse. It was the only thing she could do - aside from work, they hardly knew each other, and anyway, the middle of a political campaign would never be the place to start anything, would it?

 

Therese had nodded dumbly, glanced at her feet to keep from looking at Carol. “Of course,” she’d mumbled. “I’m sorry, too.”

 

And just like that, they were miles away.

 

Therese shakes her head abruptly as if to rid her mind of the thought and clutches her satchel tighter before moving up the concrete steps. 

 

When she walks inside, she finds a few staffers already at work; there’s only three or four of them, sipping from coffee mugs and struggling to keep their eyes open this early in the morning, but it’s enough for her to be able to avoid Carol. She looks down the hallway and notices the door to the meeting room is ajar.  _ She must be in there,  _ Therese thinks, and deliberately goes in the opposite direction.

 

She keeps herself preoccupied with menial tasks for several minutes. Luckily, Abby walks in after not too long, Phil shuffling in behind her. Abby gives her a warm smile when their eyes meet. 

 

“Meeting in fifteen,” she says, and suddenly, Therese isn’t smiling anymore.

 

Genevieve and Tommy walk in just as the meeting is beginning, and Therese manages to slip in behind them, standing in the back rather than sitting in her usual spot between Abby and Carol. Abby shoots her a look, and Therese shrugs. The meeting starts without any other questions.

 

“Okay, people,” Abby starts, and instantly the room is silent and the attention is on her. It’s times like these when Therese is reminded of just how incredible a leader Abby is. “We’ve got Carol scheduled to give an interview at a local station in three days, and because this is the first time she’s publicly spoken since the rumors started, this has to be  _ perfect.”  _ Staffers mutter under their breath, covering their mouths with their hands to quiet the gossip. Faith has clearly been lost since the weeks of Carol’s supposed reign of New York. 

 

_ Glad I’m not the only one,  _ Therese thinks bitterly, and hates herself for it.

 

Abby can obviously see the lack of enthusiasm from her staff members, because she narrows her eyes and sighs ever so slightly. “Like I said, this won’t be easy, so I’ve got Therese on it.” Therese nods obediently, trying to look eager despite the frustration boiling in her veins. “I need you prepping Carol all day, every day, because this is going to be big. Take whoever you need to get the job done.”

 

A few junior, relatively new staffers look her way, no doubt hoping to be selected. It lifts Therese’s spirits, if only a little. She’s generally liked by the majority of the staff, and while she appreciates it and has always felt confident and accepted here, she still can’t shake the memory of how awful things had been last night. 

 

And now she’s stuck with Carol for the next three days.

 

This should be fun.

 

.

.

.

 

“Abby, is there any way we can get Dannie on prepping Carol for the interview?” Therese waits until everyone has left the room to try and get out of her new task. “He knows what he’s doing, and so does Carol. And anyway, I think my help could be used more with grassroots organization and getting people out to spread the word and raise money…”

 

Abby gives her a look that clearly says she is less than impressed. “Grassroots work? Last time I checked, you were  _ press secretary,  _ Therese, not volunteer coordinator.” It occurs to Therese then just how exhausted her boss is, and instantly she regrets bringing this up. “Why don’t you want to work with Carol?”

 

Therese blanches. “I never said I didn’t want to work with Carol.”

 

“Hell yes you did. That look says it all.”

 

“I did not.”

 

“Did too.”

 

Therese sighs. Are they seriously arguing like a bunch of schoolgirls? “My talents could be used elsewhere. That’s all,” she says stiffly, and Abby scoffs. “Your  _ talents?  _ Oh, get off your high horse, Therese, and tell me what’s going on.”

 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Therese considers whether or not telling Abby the truth is a good idea. Sure, the woman is her friend and would most likely understand, but at the same time it’s humiliating. Being here and having this conversation is humiliating. “I just… Last night things between Carol and I got… Awkward, and I would rather work somewhere else. Just for today.”

 

“‘Awkward’?” Abby echoes, and Therese has a feeling she’s piecing all this together, which is both relieving and terrifying. “Awkward as in you both got wasted and started crying about your personal past tragedies, or awkward as in you both got wasted and made out?”

 

“That one,” Therese says, closing her eyes tight even as Abby’s widen. “I knew it!” she exclaims, and when Therese opens her eyes again the blonde is grinning. “Ha! I knew you played for our team!”

 

_ “What?”  _ Therese cries, because that is  _ not  _ the reaction she’s expecting.

 

Abby looks like she’s just won the lottery, or made Carol President of the United States, because her grin is practically consuming her face. It’s terrifying. “Sorry, I just - I had a feeling you were a lesbian. My gaydar is… Incredible. I’ve never been wrong.”

 

Therese doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I think you’re missing the point.”

 

“Oh, that’s right! You and Carol making out. That’s what we were talking about,” she says, her excitement dying down to reveal something akin to nonchalance. “You don’t seem too concerned,” Therese comments, and Abby shrugs. “Should I be? I mean, I never really pegged you for someone who was up for one night stands, but if that’s what you’re into…”

 

“We didn’t have sex!” Therese explains, and suddenly she has grown very tired of this entire conversation. “Why would you even think that?”

 

Abby picks up her coffee from the table and takes a sip. Therese wonders if the woman’s as frustrated as she is. “Well, one, you kissed, and two, Carol’s never been one to beat around the bush.” A soft chuckle falls from her lips. “Then again, she’s never been one to stay for the morning after, either.”   
  


“I’m not following.”

 

Abby lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, and Therese feels incredibly stupid for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. “I didn’t know you were this  _ dense,  _ Therese. Or maybe you’re just a baby gay. Is that it?” Therese gives her a blank look. “Oh, honey,” she says, and so the brunette sits down, knowing this is going to take a while.

 

“Carol is a very beautiful woman, and when you’re as gorgeous and accomplished as her, well, you have a lot of options. And so it only makes sense to explore all those options, right? It’s like a cheese platter. When someone offers you a taste, you don’t just stick to the same old aged cheddar. You try the gouda, and maybe take a cracker, and have a little nibble of everything. But you don’t eat a whole block of one cheese, right? Because that would get old. And people like variety.”

 

In all her years, Therese has never had a person’s sexual escapades explained to her through the analogy of a cheese platter. It’s strange, to say the least. And extremely embarrassing once she realizes what it means.

 

“So you’re saying Carol wanted a taste, because she likes variety, but she isn’t going to stick around or actually invest in me because it would get  _ old?”  _ Abby, Abby who is so oblivious to the havoc she wreaks sometimes, smiles and nods approvingly. “Exactly! See, you’re not as dense as I thought.”   
  


“And she does this often?”

 

“Well, after the divorce from Harge, she… had fun. Discreetly, of course, because her career has always been the most important, but she’s been around. I figured that had died down by now, since she’s running for governor and everything, but like you said, she was drunk last night. And lonely. That isn’t the best combination.”

 

Abby shrugs and begins picking up her papers, ready to officially start the day and move past this conversation, which is no doubt extremely repetitive and boring for her. Therese doesn’t blame her. If it were the other way around, she’d want to get the hell out of there, too. But that doesn’t stop her from feeling like yesterday’s trash.

 

“One more thing,” Therese asks, as Abby moves toward the door. “All of Carol’s… escapades. Are they the reason she and Harge divorced? Did she really cheat on him, when this whole time I’ve been defending her name?”

 

Abby’s expression changes then, from impatience to something like sympathy. She must be able to hear the rejection in Therese’s voice, the shame, because she turns around and shakes her head. “Oh, honey, no. That isn’t why they divorced, but even if it was, I would never keep that from you.” She holds Therese’s gaze, deep brown eyes finding light green ones, and Therese can tell she’s sorry. “I didn’t mean for this to… hurt you. I just thought you wanted to know the truth.”

 

Therese sucks in a breath, feeling dejected but refusing to let it show. She’s better than that. This has always been a challenge, and no matter how difficult it gets, she’ll never let them see that. Especially not Carol.

 

“I’m not hurt,” she says quickly, feigning a smile. “And I wanted to know. So thank you.”

 

.

.

.

 

Therese grabs a mug of coffee and allows herself a few minutes of peace before going to meet Dannie and Carol for the interview prep. She sits down in a secluded corner of the break room, sipping her hot drink with her shoulders slouched and back turned away from the door as a way to ward people off. She isn’t exactly in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

 

She shouldn’t be shocked, really. Like Abby said, Carol is a gorgeous woman, and it only makes sense for her to… explore all her options, as Abby so accurately put it. Which makes Therese nothing more than another catch. If anything, she should be  _ glad  _ that things didn’t go any further. It would only have hurt more when Carol tossed her out and moved on to someone better.

 

“Hey pretty lady.” Therese knows without turning around that it’s Dannie, easily able to distinguish him through his affectionate nicknames, but somehow it only makes her feel more depressed. She takes a breath before turning to him and smiling. 

 

“You ready to go prep Carol?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to her and stealing her coffee mug for a quick sip. The mention of the woman she’s so confused with (and still so  _ in love _ with) steals away her smile, as fake as it may be. Dannie notices instantly, the way he always does. “Why the long face?” He asks, brow furrowed with worry.

 

Therese shrugs. “Oh, I’m fine,” she lies, but knows Dannie will see right through it. “I’m just exhausted.”

 

He gives her a doubtful look, but doesn’t press. She’ll always be grateful for that. “Well, if you want to talk, let me know, okay?” His expression lightens then, and he rests his hand on hers for a moment. “It’s kind of my job to listen, since you got me this job and everything. I basically owe you my life.”

 

Therese laughs, gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 

 

“And anyway, we get to spend the day with Carol, right? And you two work perfectly together. So it’ll be great.”

 

Again he has mentioned Carol, and again it has stolen away any chance of her mood improving. Therese hates that this woman has such an affect on her life, without them even truly knowing each other. “Actually, that’s kind of the problem…” As embarrassed as she feels by this entire ordeal, she knows Dannie is the one who will understand (or at the very least be able to console her more than Abby did). So she swallows her pride.

 

Dannie immediately sits back down, his undivided attention fixated on what she’s about to say. While he’s no doubt extremely curious, Therese knows he cares more about her feelings than anything else. Again she’s reminded of how lucky she is to have a friend like him.

 

“Well, last night after everyone left, Carol and I left together, and, well… We…”

 

Just as Therese begins, her voice quiet with a discomfort she’s never witnessed in herself, the door to the break room opens and Tommy walks in.

 

Dannie shoots him a glare. Therese sighs and folds her arms. Tommy smiles obviously, and Therese resents him for it. She resents Abby for telling her things she didn’t want to know, Phil and Dannie for leaving her with Carol last night, herself for being so upset about something so small.

 

Most of all, though, she resents Carol for putting her here in the first place.

 

.

.

.

 

“You need to be more relaxed. You’re way too stiff; it makes you seem aloof, unrelatable.”

 

Therese’s voice is dull and disinterested as she says it, and she keeps her gaze fixed on the papers in front of her.  _ Day two,  _ she thinks with a hint of anger, feeling it boil underneath her skin and in her veins. Sometimes, she doesn’t get paid enough for this.

 

Carol sighs, and there is no irritation in it, but somehow it fuels the frustration burning inside Therese. “Okay,” she says patiently. If she’s upset, she gives no indication of it.

 

That only makes her  _ more  _ angry.

 

They’d spent a few hours yesterday going over questions Carol would most likely be asked during the interview. Surprisingly, Therese’s sadness and made her complacent and something akin to a pushover. She’d avoided Carol’s gaze, kept her words passive and soft, and let Dannie take the lead. Over night, however, her dejection had turned into anger. They’ve only been working for an hour, but already Therese has noticed how combative she’s being, how critical. It’s almost involuntary. 

 

Dannie casts a skeptical look her way, but Therese just shrugs, so he continues with the questions. “Okay, Mrs. Aird. As many of our viewers know, rumors of your supposed infidelity while you were married to your ex-husband have been circulating recently. Your campaign has made a statement denying the accusations, but many are still skeptical. Do you have anything you’d like to say to those voters?”

 

Carol nods politely as Dannie speaks, the way they’ve practiced a dozen times already. When he finishes, she waits for a few moments before responding. “Well, I’m no stranger to slander. I think that whenever you have a strong woman, a strong candidate, who is catching ground and eventually surpassing you, it can be threatening. Especially when you’re in a position of power and can feel that power slipping out of your grasp. However, as threatening as that may be, I don’t think that resorting to character assassination is-”

 

“Nope, stop right there.” Therese shakes her head impatiently. “First off, you need to cut the ‘strong woman’ thing. The second you say that, people get uncomfortable. They think you’re full of yourself, conceited, narcissistic.” She watches Carol frown ever so slightly, but still, the woman nods. Therese takes that as her que to continue. She’s determined to get underneath Carol’s skin by the end of the day, no matter what it takes. It’s cruel, but right now it’s the only thing that will make this okay.

 

“In fact, let’s just cut the whole thing and start again,” Therese says, glancing over at Dannie. He squirms in his seat, obviously uncomfortable and unsure of why Therese is being so abrasive. “It’s way too combative. ‘Character assassination’ is too strong a term, and the way you say it makes you seem angry.” 

 

Dannie pipes up then. “I don’t think she seems angry,” he says, but his voice is quiet. Therese shoots him a glare, but just as she’s about to continue her ruthless tirade, Carol sighs and rolls her eyes. 

 

“I don’t think I’m the only one being combative here, Therese.”

 

And just like that, Therese knows it’s on.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Therese responds, feigning innocence, but there’s venom in her voice and she knows they hear it.

 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Carol says, her voice is still level. All Therese knows is that she wants to make it rise, wants to hear the woman get as angry and hurt as Therese already is. “You’ve been harassing me all day, and I thought I could take it, but I shouldn’t have to. Not from you.”

 

Therese scoffs. “Not from me? And why is that, Carol? Because you think you have an edge on me, something that makes me bow down to you and do whatever you want?”

 

Dannie stands up then, his face red. “You know, I’m loving the enthusiasm, guys, and the teamwork, but I think we should take a fifteen minute break. Just to cool down. How does that sound?”

 

Both women glare at him. He quietly excuses himself from the room.

 

“You’re being childish,” Carol says coldly, standing up and moving towards the door. “I never thought you’d stoop to that level, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”   
  


Therese stands up, too, and blocks the exit before the blonde can reach it. “And I never thought  _ you’d  _ be so cold, flirting with me,  _ kissing  _ me, and then throwing me out like I’m yesterday’s trash. That’s an awfully low level to stoop to, don’t you think?”

 

Carol’s expression softens then, and Therese thinks she sees regret in those beautiful blue eyes. But it vanishes in an instant, replaced instead with contempt. “I was drunk. I told you that.”

 

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” Therese responds, and is surprised by how harsh her voice sounds. “You had one glass of wine. That’s it. You were  _ completely  _ aware of what you were doing, and yet you did it anyway.

 

“And what irritates me the most, what  _ hurts  _ me the most,” Therese continues, ignoring the way her voice breaks, “is that you’d pretend like it never even happened.” Carol closes her eyes for a moment, the corners of her lips pulled down into a miserable frown, and when she opens them again Therese is sure of the sadness shining in them. 

 

“You know, Abby told me what kind of person you are, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I just never thought you’d pull something like that on me when you’re in a position of power, when you have the control.” Her voice breaks off at that last word, and Therese hates herself for it, for showing weakness when all she’s ever tried to be here is  _ strong.  _

 

A mixture of what Therese thinks is shame and indignation shadows Carol’s features for a brief moment when she mentions Abby. But Therese doesn’t linger to see what comes after it. She grabs her materials off the table and stuffs them into her bag, not wanting to be in the room any longer. She’s had enough humiliation for the day.

 

“Therese,” Carol says gently, and grabs her arm just as she’s about to leave. Her slender fingers wrap around Therese’s wrist, and she stops. This is the first time she has touched her since that night. It’s bittersweet, and more than anything, it makes her  _ weak _ .

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Therese. I swear it. I just…” She looks so conflicted, like there’s something she wants to say but can’t bring herself to, at least not out loud. “I just made a mistake. And for that, I’m sorry.”

 

Therese bites the inside of her cheek, looking anywhere but at her. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“I know.”   
  


“I  _ hate  _ you.”

 

“ _ I know.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love abby, and I LOVE ANGST.


	4. again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: carol and therese dance around each other, bold enough to cause each other pain but too afraid to ease it.

Therese is watching Carol’s interview from behind the set when Abby pulls her aside to meet George Semco, the man Carol had chosen as her lieutenant governor, and his son, Richard.

 

She secretly resents being pulled away from the action. Carol has only been live for a few minutes, but already she has answered the myriad of questions thrown at her with a professionalism and expertise that Therese knew she had but was astounded at nonetheless. Luckily, the interviewer hadn’t started right out with questions about the infidelity rumors, but she segues into one of them just as Therese is pulled away.

 

“Therese, I’d like you to meet George Semco, New York’s next lieutenant governor,” Abby says, smiling politely as the man steps forward. Therese does the same and offers him her hand to shake. “Therese Belivet.”

 

George Semco is an older, pensive looking man, with thinning gray hair and a hushed mood about him. “So you’re the woman Abby keeps telling me about,” he says with a grin, and the laugh lines that crinkle on his forehead and by the corners of his mouth tells Therese she’s going to like him.

 

“All good things, I hope,” she says, even though she knows Abby would never bad mouth her behind her back - at least not to a man like this. Abby smirks knowingly, and George nods. “Of course. She picked you as her protege for a reason, and from what I’ve seen so far, you’re doing an excellent job.”

 

“Well, thank you, sir,” Therese says, beaming. She’s never been referred to as Abby’s protege before.

 

“You’re welcome. Let’s just hope that good work of yours will get Carol and me into the governor’s office without too much of a problem.”

 

Just as Therese is about to respond, Tommy steps behind set with two newcomers, an older woman and a young man. They look similar enough to be related, mother and son she assumes, but the way the man pushes past her and into the center of the small circle says nothing of filial respect.

 

The young man comes to stand beside George, and Therese tells in the same way she had before that they’re related. He has broad shoulders and thick red-brown hair, and a boyish, easy smile that mirrors George’s. But he reeks of money and privilege, something his father lacks. Therese finds herself less inclined to like this man, even more so when he thrusts his lean body forward and singles her out among the group.

 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing around my old man?” he says, his charismatic charm not reaching Therese. Tommy, who had come to stand by them, pipes up. “That’s Therese Belivet, our press secretary,” he responds, and Therese resents the way he answers for her, like she’s somehow incapable of doing so.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Therese,” the young man says as he extends his hand for her to shake. “I’m Richard.” Therese smiles reluctantly and shakes his hand. Tommy watches the interaction intently, and she deliberately steps away from him.

 

“Can I call you Terry?” Richard asks, moving forward into her personal space with an ease that tells her he’s done this dozens of times before. 

 

“I’m not one for nicknames,” Therese says flatly, “so just calling me Therese would be great, thanks.”

 

Richard looks thrown off by her remark. Therese smirks inwardly.

 

“I can’t thank you enough for running this campaign, Miss Gerhard,” the woman who had come in earlier, Richard’s mother, says. Abby nods dutifully and gives her a mock salute, her easy personality something that has no doubt put dozens of her clients at ease in even the most stressful of times. “It’s the least I can do. You can thank me after I get Carol and your husband elected.”

 

Richard’s mother smiles politely. “Now, I just which you could get Richie here a job on the campaign.” Richard grimaces at the nickname, and Therese tries not to snicker. “He just graduated from Harvard, and would love the opportunity.” Therese thinks he probably feels more like he’s  _ owed  _ the opportunity.

 

“Well, we’re not currently looking for staffers, but if that ever changes you’ll be the first to know,” Abby responds. 

 

It’s like music to Therese’s ears. The last thing she wants is to be working alongside a pompous, entitled rich boy like him.

 

.

.

.

 

“Are you and Carol still avoiding each other like the plague?” Danny asks as Therese steps into the office. A week or so has passed since their standoff in the conference room, and Therese is glad to say that the fiery anger burning inside her veins has finally subsided.

 

“No. Abby bought my whining for a few days, but she said she can’t spend the rest of the election keeping us as far away as possible. So I guess we’re good.” It’s somewhat a lie; she still feels a rejected, upset displeasure low in her stomach whenever she works with Carol, but it’s unprofessional to let that affect her work. So she takes the high road, the way she has so many times before. Not to mention the fact that Carol had apologized earnestly for what had happened that night, and Therese is inclined to believe she truly feels guilty.

 

“Oh, thank  _ god,”  _ Danny says, throwing his hands up like he’s praising some unseen deity above them. “I couldn’t stand being around the two of you when you were pissed at each other. The room gets so icy, I feel like I’m at the frickin’ North Pole.”

 

“I’m over it,” Therese says easily, sorting through some mail on her desk. Danny grins.

 

“Good, because I’m not going to lie, you were kind of a bitch to her.” Therese smirks, because he’s right. “I know.”

 

“But you’re really not mad that she made a move on you?”

 

Therese shakes her head. She’d told Danny everything the morning after her argument with Carol, and while he’d sworn his secrecy, she still feels a little uneasy about bringing it up around anyone but Carol herself. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not my fault she thinks she has to whore herself out for women, now that she’s not married anymore.”

 

“Damn, Belivet, you’re a stone cold lesbo!” Danny exclaims, erupting into a fit of laughter.

 

Therese laughs with him, but deep down, she feels guilty for saying something like that about Carol.

 

.

.

.

 

Therese spends the fifteen minutes before their meeting starts scrolling through articles online, reading about Carol’s recent interview and her bid for the governor’s office. While the infidelity rumors are still dogging her down, the interview had cleared up many things, and it looks like public opinion is turning in her favor again. Therese figures that by the end of the month, any talk of Carol cheating during her previous marriage will be history.

 

She looks up but says nothing as Carol steps into the room, choosing a seat at the conference table a few feet away from her. Genevieve and Tommy follow behind. They choose a spot on either side of Therese, and she makes small talk with Genevieve for a minute, doing anything to avoid speaking with Carol.

 

“So Therese, what did you think of my pal Richard?” Tommy asks, instantly garnering the attention of all three women in the room, Carol included. “Your pal Richard?” Therese echoes, knowing who he’s referring to but playing dumb nonetheless. That should tell Tommy all he wants to know.

 

“Richard Semco, who you met a few days ago. At the interview.” Therese pretends that the bit of information jogs her memory. “Oh, Richard,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, he seems like a nice guy.” It’s a lie, but Therese revels in the way Carol frowns ever so slightly at her remark.

 

“You think so?” Tommy asks, grinning. “Well, you should come out for drinks with us this weekend. I know Richard would love to get to know you better.”

 

Therese can’t help but laugh; she’s made it clear to the majority of her coworkers she’s only interested in women, yet somehow Tommy thinks there was a spark between her and Richard. She can’t blame a guy for trying, though, and if an hour of drinks with him will make Carol as upset as she seems to be right now, it’s definitely worth it to her. Hell, she’ll probably end up canceling anyway.

 

“Yeah, that would be great,” Therese says with mock eagerness. She can just make out Carol’s frown from the corner of her eye. “Richard seems like a nice guy, so why not?”

 

“Well, he’s certainly interested in you,” Tommy says, grinning. Carol sighs irritably, and her gaze lingers on Therese even after Genevieve starts discussing campaign funds with her.

 

Again, Therese can’t help but laugh.

 

.

.

.

 

Therese spends the next few days working with a renewed vigor. She spends late nights at headquarters, going over schedules for the weeks to come, and confides heavily in Abby, who has become her friend just as much as her boss. 

 

Tommy is disappointed when she cancels on him and Richard, citing work and her lack of rest as the reason for why she can’t go out. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t exactly the truth, either. Still, she doesn’t feel guilty. But maybe she should.

 

Carol is a ghost, out of the office more than she’s actually in it. Therese wonders if it’s because of her, if how cruel she’d been to her had made the woman reluctant to even show her face at campaign headquarters. She thinks of apologizing, or at least of bridging the gap between them, but eventually decides against it. 

 

Therese tells herself it’s because she doesn’t have the time. Really, though, it’s because she’s afraid.

 

.

.

.

 

“Where are those forms? Where the hell are those forms?”

 

Therese looks up from her place next to Genevieve, watching as Abby frantically paces the room. “I just had them…” she mutters, growing more and more irritated by the minute. Therese and Genevieve give each other a look.

 

“Um, they’re right next to your bag, Abby,” Genevieve says gently. Abby sighs exasperatedly but grabs the stack of papers beside her handbag. 

 

They’ve spent the last hour or so making a list of possible locations for Carol to hold a rally. Obviously it won’t be as large or spectacular as that of a presidential rally, but Carol still needs to get out and connect with voters, and this is the most intimate way to do that. Not to mention it will make the incumbent governor, who has done little campaigning so far, seem out of touch with the people.

 

Genevieve had suggested a pancake breakfast in the park: something to not only entice voters but to make them feel more at home with Carol, more relatable. But they’d spent too long discussing the details, and Abby had forgotten about a meeting she had in… 

 

Therese glanced at her watch. 3:15 PM. 

 

Fifteen minutes. A meeting she has in fifteen minutes, one that is halfway across town. 

 

_ Good luck with that. _

 

“I need Carol to sign these goddamn forms,” Abby hisses as she slips on her jacket. “The convention needs them today, otherwise she’ll miss the deadline to be part of the debate. But she’s never  _ here.  _ Dammit, and I have to go. But I need her to sign these goddamn forms!”

 

“I’ll take them to her,” Therese says without thinking, and instantly regrets it. But it’s too late. Abby gives her a skeptical look; she knows Therese and Carol aren’t on the best of terms, but Therese can tell by the desperation in her eyes that right now she doesn’t care. 

 

“Thank you, thank you,  _ thank you,”  _ Abby says, running a hand through her short blonde hair as she tosses Therese the forms. “There’s a tab next to all the places where she needs to sign. Get her signature and then take these down to the state office, will you? I’ll text you her address.”

 

Therese nods, and before she can go back on her agreement, Abby is out the door.

 

There’s a lump in her throat as she drives to upper Manhattan, where Carol lives. Her home isn’t far from Abby’s, she notes with a hint of curiosity, and wonders just how long the women have known each other. 

 

The blinds are drawn and the place looks dead, uninhabited as Therese gets out of her car and walks up the front steps. If she really wanted to, she could turn around now and go back to headquarters, make Danny get the forms signed. But she made a promise to Abby, and anyway, this shouldn’t be such a big deal. 

 

_ Be professional,  _ she thinks, and knocks on the door.

 

Carol answers after a few heartbeats too long. Her hair is mussed ever so slightly, and she isn’t wearing any makeup, but there’s an aura of natural beauty about her that makes Therese ache with something she thought she’d dispelled from her thoughts weeks ago. 

 

She looks surprised to see Therese, but the furrow in her brow fades away as the brunette explains herself. “Come in, come in,” she says, and it occurs to Therese then that she seems awfully despondent. She wonders why, but knows it isn’t her place to ask.

 

Carol leads her into the living room. It’s quaint and tiny but somehow exactly what Therese would expect from Carol, and the first thing she notices is that there’s a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table, half full.

 

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Therese asks without really thinking about it. She expects a sharp retort, but instead Carol just laughs. Therese thinks she can hear a hint of sadness in it.

 

“Let me grab a pen,” she says as Therese sets out the forms. She disappears into the other room but is back almost instantly. Therese sits silently as she fills out the papers.

 

“Is everything alright, Carol?” she asks once the woman is done, suddenly feeling bold. Maybe it’s the loneliness in Carol’s eyes, or the loneliness in  _ hers, _ but something about this moment gives her a rush of courage, of concern for the older woman.

 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Carol responds, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. She perches on the armrest of her sofa, seeming uncomfortable, or maybe just sad. “Harge just has Rindy for the weekend, and I get awfully lonely all by myself. It sets in at the worst of times.”

 

“You should find someone,” Therese says simply, “someone to pass the time with. Just so you aren’t alone.”

 

Carol laughs again, but it sounds hollow. “Oh, I’ve tried that already. You know that better than anyone, Therese.”

 

“Don’t act like what happened with us was the same thing. Because it wasn’t.”

 

“I know,” Carol says, evenly. “I know.”

 

She takes a sip of her wine again, and Therese takes a moment to admire the way she tilts her head back ever so slightly, the way her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as she numbs herself to the sadness that is so obviously threatening to succumb her. Therese wonders how beside all that she still manages to be so beautiful. She’s never seen that in anyone before.

 

“The sad thing about it,” Carol says, “is that there wasn’t even a beginning for us - not really.” Therese tenses up, and the blonde must notice it, because she shakes her head. “And I know that’s my fault. I do. But I just - I just wonder, does it ever bother you? Do you think it’s as sad as I do?”

 

Therese knows the alcohol is doing the talking right now. It’s funny, almost, that once again it’s the thing to bring them together, like an asteroid headed straight for Earth, the impact inevitable yet shocking all the same. It’s a bit disappointing, too, because all it means is that when they kiss again, it won’t mean anything.

 

But at this point, Therese has gotten used to it. She’s aware of the pull between them, something like gravity, that will bring them together sooner or later. She might as well just accept it.

 

She doesn’t bother answering Carol’s question, just steps forward and between the woman’s legs, slipping into her personal space without a word. One hand finds her hip and the other rests on Carol’s cheek, her fingers brushing against that sharp jawline as their lips meet again.

 

Again, she tastes wine on Carol’s lips, and again it’s like some kind of aphrodisiac, making her irresistible yet toxic all the same.  _ Again,  _ she keeps thinking,  _ again, again, again,  _ because they’ve done this a thousand times before, she knows. It’s all too familiar for anything else to be the case.

 

Her lips find Carol’s neck, and Therese is surprised at the tenderness she applies as she kisses that soft skin, inhaling her gentle scent for as long as she can. Something like a moan falls from Carol’s lips, and Therese wonders just how lonely this woman is, how long it’s been since she’s felt the comfort of another’s touch.

 

Because she doesn’t deserve to be lonely. She deserves everything, to be happy and taken care of by the person who loves her. 

 

In another life, Therese knows that person was  _ her.  _

 

The end comes as fast as the beginning, and just as Carol wraps an arm around her, Therese pulls away. Their foreheads rest against each other for a moment that is all too short. Therese ignores the pain in her chest as she drops her hand from Carol’s cheek and steps out of her reach. 

 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says quietly, and Carol just nods. They’ve done this before. They know how it ends. The only difference is that this time, Therese is the one to say it. 

 

Therese picks up her papers, her back turned to Carol as she struggles to keep her emotions at bay. She slips out of the house easily. Carol doesn’t say goodbye.

  
When she gets into her car and allows herself a moment to calm her beating heart, she can still taste Carol on her lips, sweet but nearly forgotten, like something from a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts?


	5. and then some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: therese searches for a muse, and carol already has one.

When Carol walks into campaign headquarters Monday morning, Therese does something she hasn’t in weeks: she smiles at her.

 

Carol looks shocked at the gesture, but she recovers easily and gives Therese a smile of her own. It’s beautiful, the way the corners of her lips tilt upwards ever so slightly, in a shy and almost hesitant way. She’s never seen Carol act like this with anyone else. She loves that she has this effect on Carol, but hates that she’s taken advantage of it before.

 

“There’s coffee in the break room,” Therese says softly as she looks up from her desk, where she’s replying to an email. Carol perks up at the news and wanders into the back. “Oh, thank god,” she hears the woman say, and Therese laughs.

 

This is the first time they’ve been so relaxed around each other since the beginning of the campaign. It’s unfamiliar, but more than anything it feels  _ right,  _ like something she’s been missing out on. It makes Therese ache for the loss of their previous weeks, when they could have been building something together, learning about one another and strengthening their bond.

 

But once again she is reminded of their roles, where they are right now. The campaign’s final weeks are heating up, and this is no place to start anything.

 

Somehow, though, she continues to have hope.

 

“You ready for the gala this weekend?” Therese asks when Carol walks into the room again. They’d spent the last few weeks setting up one of the final fundraisers of the campaign, a black-tie gala that would attract many wealthy donors and political allies - connections Carol will need in the weeks to come. She’d been hesitant to host one, afraid that a dinner for the wealthy elite would make her seem pretentious and pompous when she needs to be as relatable to voters as possible, but the fact of the matter is that the campaign needs the money. Badly.

 

And unfortunately, the easiest way to aquire said money is to look to the wealthy.

 

“As ready as I can be, I suppose,” Carol answers with a slight grimace. “Who are the important guests I need to be aware of?”

 

Therese pulls up a quick guest list and Carol comes to stand behind her, leaning over the brunette’s shoulder to get a good look. Therese is consciously aware of the woman’s hair brushing against the side of her neck and closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling her soft scent for a moment that is all too brief. It reminds her of their kiss at Carol’s home a few weeks ago, and suddenly Therese feels weak.

 

“Can you zoom in?” Carol asks, slipping on her reading glasses so she doesn’t have to squint at the screen. Therese complies, and they spend a few minutes going over the list, noting the names of wealthy businessmen and up-and-coming politicians. 

 

“I really do dread these things,” Carol says as she steps away. “I used to have to go to them all the time with Harge. I always felt like an arm piece, something to be looked at but never really valued.”

 

Therese shakes her head and glances up at Carol. “Well this time it’ll be different, because you’ll be the star of the show,” she says. 

 

Carol scoffs. “I very much doubt that.”

 

.

.

.

 

Therese waits until the last day possible to start personally preparing for the gala.

 

The main reason is because she’s too busy at work to do anything else; the infidelity rumors have finally been dispelled, but there’s still so much to do to improve Carol’s image and make her the frontrunner in the election. For the duration of the campaign the team has been working to make her seem like a down to earth, relatable mother who understands the people more than an old, wealthy man who has been in office for over ten years. It’s worked so far, but they are still miles behind the finish line, it seems. So Therese dedicates every waking moment to the job.

 

“Will you be my date to the gala?” Dannie jokes one day, as Therese and her coworkers snack on whatever’s left in the fridge for lunch. Genevieve laughs as she takes a bite of a browning banana. Therese rolls her eyes. “Why? Have you and Jack finally decided to call it quits?”

 

“Of course not,” Dannie responds. “I just wouldn’t want a beautiful goddess such as yourself to go alone.”

 

“You should go with Richard,” Tommy says from across the room. Therese has to try not to groan. “He’ll be there, of course, and I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

 

“Sorry, but Therese is going to be  _ my  _ date,” Genevieve shoots back, wrapping an arm around Therese’s waist. The brunette laughs and plays along. “Isn’t that right, Therese?”

 

Abby and Carol walk in just then. Carol seems surprised to see the women so close, but Abby just rolls her eyes, knowing it doesn’t mean anything. “No fraternizing in my break room,” she says flatly, reaching for the bowl of grapes on the counter.

 

“But Therese is my muse, my reason for living,” Genevieve whines, reaching for her even as Therese pulls away. Carol raises an eyebrow, and Therese smirks to show her they’re only joking. “Well if you’re such a lowly instrument for the muses, Gen, you can help me write up the press releases that need to go out today.”

 

Genevieve pretends to bow to her. “Anything for you, my angel.”

 

The rest of the group chuckles. They make smile talk during lunch, and as Therese departs and heads back to the conference room to head back to work, Carol follows with her. “So, is Genevieve your muse just as much as you are hers?” she asks teasingly, but Therese detects a hint of jealousy in her soft voice. 

 

Therese glances back at her, smirks. “Depends on who’s asking.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Well, are you asking as my coworker and my superior, or as my friend?”

 

Carol studies her for a moment, as if weighing her up. Therese meets her gaze steadily and tries to ignore the beauty of those eyes, cerulean and deep as the ocean. “I’m asking as your friend,” she says finally. “And maybe something more than that.”

 

There’s a challenge in Carol’s eyes as she says it, and it invigorates Therese. It’s deadly and wrong, oh, so wrong, but she’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She takes a step closer to Carol, eyes taking in their surroundings deftly to see if anyone’s there, but the hallway is vacant. The only sound comes from Carol as she breathes ever so quietly. 

 

“I don’t have a muse,” Therese says, only inches away from the blonde.

 

If Therese ever doubted the desire in Carol’s eyes, she can see it clearly now; the darkness swirling in them is just as intoxicating as the memory of their lips meeting, and it makes it almost impossible for the younger woman to keep the distance between them. But she is stubborn, mostly because of her youth, so she glances at Carol’s lips with a tantalizing smile before stepping back and turning away. 

 

“You should be careful, Therese,” Carol says, her voice achingly low. 

 

Therese smirks, glances back at the woman. “ _ You  _ should be careful, Carol.”

 

Their gazes lock for the last time. Therese thinks she sees the woman smile.

 

.

.

.

 

“Am I the only one that feels totally out of place here?”

 

Therese watches with a hint of amusement as Dannie’s eyes dart around the room apprehensively, taking in the grandeur and pomp of the hotel where they’d chosen to hold the gala. It  _ is  _ awfully elaborate, not exactly something that should be funded with the campaign’s finances, but in their defense they hadn’t actually had to pony up much of the cash for this. Harge, a relatively well-off (at least by Wall Street’s standards) businessman, had been more than eager to get with a few of his wealthy pals, from politicians to investors to foundation chairmen, to put the gala together. Again Therese wonders how the hell Carol manages to maintain a copacetic, and even  _ friendly,  _ relationship with her ex-husband. There must be something there that she’s missing.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Jeanette says from her place on the other side of Dannie. They’re sitting at a table near the back of the dining hall, watching as guests slowly begin trickling in. There’s still a good forty-five minutes before the gala officially begins, but they’d been instructed to get there early - as early as possible, in fact. 

 

Dannie tugs at his collar awkwardly and sighs. “I feel like the freakin’ President of the United States is going to walk in any minute now.”

 

Genevieve rolls her eyes. “Nobody’s even here yet.”

 

“Hey, for all you know, in a few years  _ Carol  _ could be President,” Jeanette quips, and the group laughs, albeit uneasily. Therese frowns, wonders how she would ever fit into Carol’s life if that were to happen. “Baby steps, Jeanette, baby steps,” she says, trying to sound amused, but the words come out awfully flat.

 

A few minutes pass before Abby and Carol arrive. Abby looks serious, more business than pleasure (as she should be, Therese thinks), but Therese’s eyes only briefly scan over the woman in her haste to see Carol. Her hair is simple and straight, coming just to her shoulders, and while her dress is no doubt expensive, it is a simple and unpretentious number that is somehow still incredibly flattering. Therese smiles, knowing Carol no doubt went for the most casual thing she could get away with.

 

“Alright, listen up,” Abby says the moment she reaches their table. “However entertaining this appears to be, however much fun you think you want to have tonight, just know it isn’t going to be happening. Because this isn’t for you. We’ve managed to bring together some of the most wealthy, most generous donors tonight, and I need you to get as much money from them as possible.”

 

The group nods. Carol watches in amusement as Abby grills them. “I need you talking to anybody,  _ everybody,  _ until every last person at this gala is broke because of how much they’ve donated. Say whatever you have to in order to encourage them to cough up the dough. This is our last chance to scrape up as much money as possible, folks, so I need you to be on top of your game. 

 

“Otherwise, you’re fired.”

 

Therese and her comrades fall silent. Genevieve gapes at the threat, and Therese can actually hear Dannie’s very painful, very terrified swallow. Abby stares harshly at them for several moments, as if daring for someone to speak up. But suddenly her face changes, from stern and unforgiving to humorous and light. “I’m kidding!” she exclaims, falling into a fit of laughter. “Jesus Christ, no wonder we never have any fun together. You’re all way too high strung.”

 

Therese glances at Dannie and watches as he laughs uneasily, Genevieve following suit. “Have fun, but do your jobs, okay?” Abby continues, finally managing to curb her wild laughter. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I need you talking to people.”

 

Abby glances down at her phone, no doubt checking the time. “Guests should be arriving any minute now, so get out of my sight.” Dannie immediately scrambles up from his chair, muttering a weak “yes ma’am” as he departs. Phil shakes his head. “My kid brother, the kiss ass,” he grumbles, following behind him.

 

Abby laughs and goes the other way, Genevieve and Jeanette in tow. It leaves Therese alone except for Carol, who casually comes to stand beside her. 

 

Therese isn’t complaining.

 

“You look beautiful,” she says, surprised by her boldness. Despite their flirting, Therese is very much aware of the fact that Carol is forbidden fruit. Somehow, though, it only makes her that much more appealing. “So do you,” Carol responds, her eyes traveling over Therese’s figure unabashedly. 

 

“You’d better get out there and start campaigning,” Carol says, rolling her eyes, “otherwise Abby will have your head.” Therese laughs gently. “And what do you intend to do all night?” she asks. 

 

“I’m not sure.” Carol shrugs, feigning indifference. “Come find me later, maybe you and I can keep each other entertained if the party grows dull.” 

  
Therese smirks. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally intended to post the gala as a single chapter, but as a started writing i realized just how long it is. for that reason i split the chapter in half and will be uploading in two parts - one today, one tomorrow. stay tuned.
> 
> also: carol’s look for the gala is 100% inspired by what cate wore to the women in film awards 2016. she was absolutely gorgeous at that event, as per usual, and it was the first outfit that came to mind while writing this.


	6. sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: carol and therese conquer worlds and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, the second part of the gala. enjoy.

Therese is loitering by the bar, sipping a glass of wine, when Harge Aird comes up to her.

 

She’s spent the last few hours throwing herself at nearly every wealthy donor she’s encountered - not because she  _ wants  _ to, but because she knows how important it is that the campaign make money tonight. Also because she’s a little afraid of Abby’s (idle) threats.

 

But only a little.

 

“Therese Belivet,” she hears as she glances around the room indifferently, and looks up to see Harge walking towards her. He’s dressed in a crisp black suit, his bowtie perfectly in place and his hair slicked back. He smiles warmly as he approaches, carrying a half empty wine glass in one large hand. Therese reciprocates the smile.

 

“It’s been weeks since I last saw you, Therese. You’ll have to fill me in on the campaign.”

 

“Oh, of course, sir,” she responds, and gives him a quick run through of all the work they’d done over the course of the last month. Harge seems impressed, and while he is intimidating in every sense of the word, she appreciates his singling her out and taking time to speak with her. Therese had been wary of him the first time they’d met, if she’s being completely honest. Her awareness of his being Carol’s ex-husband made her reluctant to associate with him, partly out of mistrust and partly out of jealousy. But he’s only ever been kind to her and the other staffers, so she doesn’t really have anything to complain about.

 

“Those nasty rumors aren’t still dogging Carol down, are they?” Harge asks, and Therese shakes her head. “Nope. I was fortunate enough to dispel the rumors before they did any real damage, I think. Although I guess the only real way to find out if my tactics worked is to wait a bit longer and see what voters say.”

 

Harge nods, his brow furrowed in thought. “And she isn’t hurt by them? The rumors?”   
  


“No, at least not that I know of,” Therese responds, not quite sure of what he means. Carol had never seemed bothered by the accusations of her infidelity - she’d simply insisted she had a thick skin. But the concern in Harge’s expression now makes her wonder just how thick Carol’s skin really is. 

 

A moment of silence passes before Harge nods, his face lightening. “Good. You watch out for her, alright? You’re doing a damn good job with this campaign, so I’m sure you have been.”

 

“T-Thank you, sir.” Therese nods obediently, wondering why Harge thinks Carol needs someone to watch out for her. She’s about to ask when she notices two figures approaching out of the corner of her eye and they are interrupted. 

 

“Hello Harge, Therese,” Carol says as she steps up. Therese feels her heart sink with dismay when she sees Richard in tow behind her. 

 

Carol smiles warmly at her ex-husband before glancing at Therese, her eyes lingering for one moment too long. Therese wonders if Harge notices, but if he does, he gives no indication of it. 

 

Richard nods politely at the pair, his eyes bright with what Therese presumes to be hope. But for what, exactly? She feels a prick of curiosity, but it is replaced with disinterest in an instant. She cares little for Richard. She almost resents his being here.

 

“I found George Semco’s boy over by the bar, and we figured we’d come chat with you two for a few minutes,” Carol says, introducing Richard with an apathetic, almost forced wave of her hand. Richard perks up, even more so when Harge shakes his hand. He smiles charmingly at Therese, murmurs a low “hey, Terry”, and examines her from head to toe unabashedly. 

 

Therese doesn’t know what to be angry at more: the childish nickname or the disgusting way he checks her out. She gives him a disapproving look and takes a step closer to Carol. 

 

“Enjoying the gala, Carol?” Harge asks, and Carol nods enthusiastically. “Of course. You’re a star for helping to put it together, Harge. I can’t thank you enough.”

 

“You really have done so much for the campaign, sir,” Therese says, turning to Harge. “We appreciate it.”

 

“No problem. And enough with the formalities, Therese. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’.” Carol chuckles softly, moves an inch or so closer to Therese. “Just calling me Harge is fine.”

 

Therese thanks him for the second time that night, only just managing to leave ‘sir’ off the end of her sentence. Something about having Carol so close to her gets her all jumbled up, she thinks, and she tries desperately (and fails) to ignore the sweet scent of the woman’s perfume a mere two feet away from her.

 

A lull in the conversation follows, and unfortunately it gives Richard just the opportunity he’s looking for. Therese watches as he straightens his shoulders and turns directly to Carol, the slight falter in his suave smirk betraying his nervousness around the woman. “I hate to be that guy, Mrs. Aird,” he begins, and Therese knows whatever is coming next is going to be absolutely pathetic, “but my father has been riding me for not doing more for the campaign. He brings it up just about every opportunity he can.”

 

Carol nods, feigning interest. “And?”

 

“And I’d love to come in and do some work with the team. I just graduated from Harvard with a degree in communications, so I’m sure I could help out on the P.R. side of things.” Therese grimaces, because public relations is  _ her  _ job, and the last thing she wants is to be working with Richard.

 

“Is there any chance there’s a position you need filled? Maybe, and I’m just going out on a limb here, assistant press secretary?”

 

Therese chokes on her wine. Harge casts a curious glance her way, and she thinks she can see Carol on the brink of laughter. Therese covers up her candid reaction with a slight cough.

 

Carol studies her for a few moments before turning back to Richard. “I’m sorry, but unfortunately all our positions are filed. Therese is an excellent press secretary and doesn’t really need an assistant. If she did, we’d already have a few names in mind.”

 

Therese wants to laugh at the ease with which Carol turns him down. She watches as Richard’s handsome face goes from hope-ridden, to discouraged, to unbelievably embarrassed. She thinks she sees a twinge of anger there, too, but it disappears too fast for her to register it.

 

Richard says nothing, just nods dejectedly. Harge and Carol share an amused glance.

 

“Well, I hope you won’t mind if I steal Therese away from you,” Carol says after a moment, shooting Richard one of her charming smiles Unfortunately it fails to put him at ease. “Oh, of course not,” Harge responds. 

 

“Have a lovely evening, ladies,” Richard mutters sarcastically, earning him a glare from Harge.

 

Therese smirks, because she has a feeling they’ll do exactly that - and then some.

 

.

.

.

 

Somehow they manage to sneak away to the rooftop of the hotel. Therese is reluctant, insisting that someone will notice if Carol is gone for even a minute, but the blonde insists they have at least fifteen before it becomes even the slightest bit obvious. And anyway, the party is full of dozens of people - over a hundred if everyone on the list showed up. They won’t be missed.

 

“We have all the time in the world,” Carol says, and the look she gives Therese makes the brunette weak in the knees. 

 

Needless to say, she follows.

 

The air is warm and welcoming as they step out of the stairwell and into the night. There is little wind out tonight, and this building isn’t very tall (at least not by New York’s standards), so it makes for something of a perfect backdrop. Therese watches as Carol’s eyes travel around the perimeter of the roof. 

 

“Are you  _ really  _ enjoying the gala?” Therese asks after a moment or so, because something about Carol’s response to Harge inside seemed forced. Carol glances at her and laughs, throwing her head back a little.

 

“No. Why do you think I invited you up here?”

 

Therese smiles. It’s so rare to have moments like this with Carol, where she is this raw and unrestrained. And beautiful. “But you told Harge you were.”

 

“Oh, he knows I was lying. We were married for nine years, for god’s sake. We went to dozens of galas like these, and I’m sure I complained throughout every single one of them.” There is no nostalgia in her voice as she speaks, though one might expect there to be. Instead she says it indifferently, as if it never mattered to her, not then and not now.

 

Therese walks closer to her, moving forward until only a few feet separate them. “Why did you get a divorce?” she asks, surprised by her boldness but not by her curiosity. She’s always wondered about that.

 

Carol glances over at her, but there is no anger in her gaze, no sadness. A few moments pass before she responds. “We weren’t in love. We never were,” she says, shrugging.

 

Her indifference to the question gives Therese the courage to press again. “Why did you get married in the first place, then?”

 

Carol smiles. “You ask so many questions.” Therese looks down, feeling bashful all of the sudden. She looks up when Carol responds. “It was in our best interest, I suppose. I had lofty goals and knew that I would need a family in order to achieve them. Harge had never loved anyone, had never even  _ wanted  _ to be in a relationship before, but his family pressured him to. He used to drown under the weight of their expectations. I remember when I first met him I found it odd, that he had only had one or two short term relationships. When I got to know him better I realized it was because he had never been interested in anyone romantically. He’s always been more concerned about his career, the mark he’ll leave on the world.”

 

Therese listens silently as Carol speaks, finally divulging the information she’s been so curious about for months. “We became good friends, eventually started dating for the hell of it. I think by the time we were engaged we knew it was more because of our goals than our love for each other.” She pauses for a moment, and Therese can see exactly when the sadness hits her. 

 

_ “It’s becoming a disease, isn’t it, not being able to love?  _ It’s so rare nowadays, it’s as if it’s hardly there at all.”

 

Her voice is so soft, so weary, it breaks Therese’s heart a little. “You don’t believe that,” she responds, and moves closer to Carol. Carol watches her intently, and the raw emotion in her eyes makes Therese feel like this is the first time she’s really seeing her, even after all this time. “No. But maybe I should.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because if you never love, you never get hurt.”

 

Therese blames the goosebumps that rise on her arms on a gust of wind that blows over them, but knows it’s really the intensity of Carol’s gaze that prompts them to swell. “I would never hurt you, Carol,” she says quietly, turning to face her. Carol nods, and there’s something so incredibly beautiful about the sadness in her eyes. 

 

Any of the seduction and flirtation of the past few days morphs into tenderness and affection as they move forward, bodies together, hearts beating as one. Therese isn’t sure who closes the gap first. All she is aware of is her loneliness, her isolation, and then the happiness that swells inside her as Carol kisses her and takes all that away. Her fingers find purchase in Carol’s hair. Carol sighs against her lips. Their kiss grows more frantic, and Therese gasps as she feels Carol slip her hand in between their bodies, cupping her breast ever so gently. 

 

“I want you,” Carol whispers. All Therese can do is nod.

 

Therese kisses the woman again before pulling away slightly, just enough so that she can look into Carol’s eyes. She sees sadness and beauty, pain and compassion. She sees Carol as she has always seen her, and as she always will.

 

Her eyes lock with Carol’s, deep ocean blue swirling with a sharp emerald green. 

 

For the first time, Therese truly  _ sees  _ her. 

 

.

.

.

 

What Therese  _ doesn’t  _ see is a familiar figure watching as she slips out of the crowd and up onto the roof with Carol. She doesn’t see the stairwell door open ever so slightly as she moves closer to the woman, doesn’t see the man in the darkness as Therese kisses Carol. 

 

She doesn’t see the camera that is slipped between the crack in the door, sticking out just enough to zoom in and take photographs of the women, even in the darkness. 

 

She doesn’t see Tommy Tucker slip into a back room later that night and upload the photographs to his laptop. 

 

(He knows the number by heart, taps it into his keypad effortlessly as he sits at the computer and sends the photographs through a secure email server. “You might want to check your inbox,” he says when the line picks up.

 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. They don’t need to.

 

They already know what it is.)

 

.

.

.

 

Three hours later the party has ended, the guests have all departed, and the campaign staffers have all returned to their homes. All except one, anyway.

 

Therese beelines for Carol’s house instead of her own as soon as she has the opportunity.

 

Carol answers the door on the second ring. She studies Therese for a moment, taking her in with desire-filled eyes, before pulling her into the house without a word. She backs Therese up against the door and they pause for a moment, breathing heavily against one another. Therese rests a hand on the small of Carol’s back and pulls the woman flush against her. 

 

“You’re young,” Carol whispers suddenly.

 

Therese smirks. “I know what I want.”

 

Their lips meet then, and any formalities are thrown to the wayside as Therese kisses her fiercely, not wanting to waste any time. It seems they have so little of it: time. She flips them around so Carol’s back against the door and grabs her wrist, pinning the blonde’s hand above her head and threading their fingers together. 

 

Carol gasps, but when she bites down on her lover’s lip ever so gently it’s  _ Therese’s _ turn to react. “Take me to bed,” Carol whispers, and Therese laughs against her lips. “You’ll have to lead the way.”

 

By the time they reach the bedroom and Therese pushes Carol down onto the bed, she has discarded most of the blonde’s clothing. She moves on top of her with ease, like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Despite this being their first time together, Therese feels like she  _ knows  _ her in every way possible. She brushes her fingertips up Carol’s thigh, forever astounded by her beauty.

 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, and Carol laughs. She has never seen the woman smile so brightly.

 

“You’ve already told me that tonight.”

 

“Because it’s  _ true.” _

 

Carol silences her with a kiss, and Therese finds herself at a loss for words. She sighs at the feeling of Carol’s lips against her cheek, her collarbone, her breasts.  _ I love you,  _ she wants to say, because it feels so right. But it isn’t time yet, Therese knows.

  
So she waits. She’d wait for Carol for a lifetime if she had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue in italics is a direct quote from ‘the price of salt’. beautiful writing that i knew i had to incorporate.
> 
> also: a lot went down in this chapter (obviously)! thoughts? i won't say it, because i'm sure most of you already know, but prepare for some angst in the upcoming chapters...


	7. tommy fucking tucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: abby offers support for two star-crossed lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only benefit of having an awful sinus infection is that i have more time to write than usual. enjoy.

Therese wakes to the feeling of gentle fingertips brushing against her naked back, just along the curve of her spine.

 

It’s early - she can tell by the darkness of the room, the starlight filtering in through the blinds in the corner. Gentle breathing is the only sound she can make out in this peacefulness, and she wonders if it’s hers or Carol’s. There is only one distinguishable breath, in and out and in and out in time with her heartbeat. They must be breathing together.

 

Therese shifts a little, raising her head off the pillow ever so slightly. If she squints, she can just identify the sinuous curve of Carol’s jawline. The woman’s eyes, unblinking, take in Therese’s lithe form in the darkness.

 

The familiar stroke of Carol’s fingers against her bare skin comes to Therese gently and she closes her eyes for a minute, wanting the feeling to be the only thing she registers. It feels like home. Therese has never understood the meaning of the word until now.

 

They say nothing for several minutes, because they don’t need to. And anyway, Therese has never been very good with words - at least not around Carol. The blonde, on the other hand, is magnificent always - her confident posture and bold words seem frozen in time, as if she had been sculpted in marble hundreds of years ago and left to remain until the end of man’s time on earth. 

 

It’s awfully poetic, Therese thinks. Carol is the only one that can draw poetry out of her.

 

She’s slipping back into a light slumber when Carol finally speaks. “I always felt I would have to apologize for this,” she says quietly. Therese opens her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“I always thought that when this happened, when we finally came together, I would have to apologize to you. That for some reason I would feel sorry.” Her fingers cease their movement on Therese’s back. “But that’s not true. I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty.”

 

Therese lifts her head up onto her hand, plants her elbow into the pillow. She isn’t shocked when Carol continues. “Do you?”

 

“No,” Therese says easily, because she always knew this would happen. The inevitability of their coming together had always been in the back of her mind, like a memory that was foggy but would eventually come to light. “I don’t regret this. I could never regret you, Carol.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“How can  _ you?”  _

 

Carol doesn’t respond, but her fingertips resume their path across Therese’s back, connecting her birthmarks into some kind of constellation. Therese takes that as a good sign.

 

“Richard seemed pretty taken with you at the gala last night,” Carol comments after a few minutes, and it suddenly makes Therese terribly angry. What does Richard have to do with them, with where they are right now? She shifts uncomfortably against Carol’s body, pulls the silken sheets tighter against her naked form. 

 

“I don’t give a damn about Richard,” Therese responds, the spite in her voice a little too evident. But Carol only laughs, and somehow it pulls Therese back to her.

 

“You’re fiery. It’s the first thing I noticed about you.” Carol’s hand travels down Therese’s back and latches onto her waist, pulling the younger woman against her side. Therese smirks. “You’re  _ domineering _ . It’s the first thing I noticed about you.”

 

Carol chuckles, the sound low and sultry as Therese moves towards her neck. “What does that make us as a pair?”

 

There’s a wicked grin on Therese’s lips as she kisses the soft skin above Carol’s clavicle. 

 

_ “Brilliant.” _

 

Therese brushes her lips against her jaw, her ribcage, her navel, eliciting sounds from Carol that are both stimulating and weakening. She stops just where Carol needs her, hovering above the apex in her thighs, before glancing up at the woman. “We should probably start getting ready for work,” she says ruthlessly. She knows Carol can feel her grinning against her skin. “There’s a lot to do, and you know, this city never really sleeps.”

 

Therese can almost  _ hear  _ the frustration in Carol’s groan. “Therese, if you try to -”

 

She doesn’t wait to hear the end of Carol’s sentence. She buries herself in the woman.

 

If Carol’s response is any indication, it was the right thing to do.

 

.

.

.

 

The next day, Therese works harder than she ever has before.

 

Maybe it’s because of the way Carol looks at her whenever she gets the opportunity, or because of the crippling guilt that prods at her when she can’t help but glance away. This is dangerous, what they’re doing - sneaking around behind the others’ backs and pretending they’re nothing more than colleagues - but it’s irresistible, and Therese knows she’ll never be able to stop. 

 

At least not now.

 

.

.

.

 

Abby calls for a meeting around lunchtime to discuss how to move forward. Only a few weeks remain until election night, and the stakes are as high as they’ve ever been. Therese can sense the anticipation of the other staffers the moment she walks into the conference room. Carol is sitting in the back, half-listening to Tommy as he rambles on about something that happened at the gala. She tries to catch Therese’s gaze, but the brunette deliberately ignores her - partly because of the guilt, and partly because of the mixed blaze of anger and desire that she knows will ignite in the woman’s eyes.

 

She’s never been one for teasing, but Carol brings out the most unexpected things in her.

 

The meeting goes swimmingly. Therese does her part easily while simultaneously ignoring every look Carol gives her. She can tell by the way the blonde shifts in her seat that she’s frustrated. They know each other so well, now, and it’s something like a glorious epiphany to Therese that she can make her lover squirm with just a look (or lack thereof).

 

At the end of the meeting, Abby brings up what everyone has been waiting so eagerly for: the funds they gathered at the gala and how they should be put to use in the final weeks of the campaign.

 

“What do you think, Belivet?” the blonde asks, turning to Therese. She immediately knows her answer. “The majority should be spent on advertising. While Carol’s name is relatively known by the majority of Democrats, the connotation can be negative because of the infidelity rumors. We need to change that in order to solidify democratic support and pull swing voters over to our side.”

 

The majority of the staffers nod in agreement at her statement. Therese smiles slightly and begins packing up her materials, ready for the meeting to end, but at the last minute a voice speaks up at the back of the room.

 

“No. That isn’t our top priority. We need to spend the money on staffers - some additional ones, just to make sure our ships are being manned completely.”

 

Therese looks up to see Carol standing at the head of the table, her authoritative tone having consumed the room in a matter of seconds. Therese tries not to smirk as the woman continues. “I was thinking we could hire an assistant press secretary - Richard Semco, George’s boy, has been gunning for the position since the beginning of the campaign.” Her voice carries just enough contempt to flip a switch in Therese. “I think he’d be a great addition to the team.”

 

It’s a direct jab at Therese, and the staffers notice it immediately. Therese straightens up, smirking ever so slightly as she locks eyes with the woman across the room. “Are you saying I’m not doing a good job?”

 

Carol shrugs indifferently. “No. I’m saying there’s always room for improvement.”

 

“Yeah, I think we could all take a lesson from that statement. You included.”

 

Therese revels in the gasp that travels throughout the room. She sees Dannie’s jaw drop from the corner of her eye, and Abby roll her eyes. Carol’s jaw clenches and the blue fire in her eyes rages on. “Miss Belivet, can I speak to you in my office?”

 

Therese nods eagerly, feigning obedience. “Of course,” she responds, only just managing not to call her  _ darling.  _ Carol pushes past their coworkers towards the door, and Therese follows, only just managing to contain her amusement. 

 

They walk down the hall and into Carol’s office silently. Carol holds the door open for her and Therese brushes against the woman as she enters, making sure her fingertips trace the length of her wrist as she does so.

 

Carol closes the door, and as soon as they are alone, she pushes Therese against the wall. Therese’s back hits the surface with a resounding  _ thump.  _

 

Their lips meet at the same instant, Carol already hot and breathless against her. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait  _ any _ longer,” she murmurs in Therese’s ear, wasting no time as she slips her fingers into the waistband of the brunette’s dress pants. With one chaste kiss Therese is ready for her, the way she always is.

 

Therese grins against her lips, her fingers finding purchase in Carol’s hair as she gasps into her ear. “Apology not accepted,” she retorts, and Carol laughs wickedly. 

 

But just as Carol’s deft fingertips brush against the damp fabric of her panties, the door shakes and someone knocks harshly, the sound filling the room in a matter of seconds.

 

Therese bites her lip to keep from crying out as Carol pulls away from her.

 

They glance at each other with wide eyes, succumb to a fear that rarely overtakes them. Another set of heavy knocks descend on the thin wood of the door. Therese looks to Carol for direction.

 

Carol opens her mouth to utter a quick plan, but just as she does the doorknob shakes and a voice is heard through walls. “Open up, you sluts,” Abby mutters, and Therese is relieved to hear amusement in her voice. She wipes a smudge of Carol’s lipstick off her cheek and reluctantly opens the door.

 

Abby takes in their disheveled appearances in one quick glance before shrugging slightly. “I swear, you two are despicable,” she says, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “You’re lucky it wasn’t Tommy fucking Tucker that was looking for you. This is probably some sick fantasy of his.”

 

Carol is clearly shocked at Abby’s reaction. “You… You’re not mad?” Therese instinctively takes a step towards Carol, as if to brace for impact.

 

But Abby just shrugs nonchalantly. “Of course not.” The confusion steadily building in Therese’s mind must be apparent on her usually gentle features, because Abby studies her, rolling her eyes. “What, you thought I didn’t know?”

 

“Well-” Carol utters out, but is interrupted by their campaign manager.

 

“Oh my  _ god,  _ Carol. I’ve known you for what, twenty years now? Do you honestly think I’m too dumb to notice when you disappear from your own damn gala?” She turns to Therese, who apparently will not be spared from her tirade. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you leave, too. You guys have been eye sexing each other for the past two weeks, and maybe the baby staffers are too ignorant to see it, but I’m not. I own this place, ladies. I know  _ everything  _ that goes on.”

 

Abby holds their gazes for a few silent moments before sighing and reaching for something in her purse. “And honey,” she says, glancing up at Carol, “this is the first time you’ve worn fuck me heels in the office since we were twenty-two.” Carol blanches at that. “Yeah, I noticed,” Abby adds, not bothering to hide the pettiness in her voice.

 

If they were under different circumstances, Therese might laugh.

 

Now, though, Therese doesn’t dare.

 

.

.

.

 

“I’m not going lie, I’m not at all surprised you chose baby gay.”

 

Therese laughs against the rim of her wine glass, shoots a curious glance over at Carol. The woman smirks. It’s only been about a half hour since Abby’s interruption of their… shenanigans, and after berating them with the angry concern that can only come from someone who cares about you deeply, she’d pulled them both into a hug and congratulated them like it was some kind of engagement.

 

“I  _ knew  _ this was going to happen,” she’d exclaimed smugly, and suddenly pulled out a bottle of wine.

 

Long story short, that was how they’d ended up locking themselves in an office and drinking at one o’clock in the afternoon.

 

Therese watches as Abby leans against the desk, swirling her wineglass haphazardly with her wrist. “I mean, look at her!” she says, grinning as she motions toward Therese. The wine splashes in the glass and almost spills on the clean white carpet beneath them. “She’s hot, successful, young. Has a sweet ass.”

 

Carol’s smile falters at that last sentence and she shoots Abby a look. Therese just laughs.

 

“And you’re lonely, Carol,” the woman continues, prompting Therese to wonder just how much wine Abby has had already. But deep down she knows her boss would never put herself in that position. Still, she’s never heard anyone say something like that to Carol. 

 

Carol’s jaw tightens for a moment, but it is all too brief and she relaxes almost instantly. “No comment,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice. When Therese sheepishly catches the blonde’s eye, Carol smiles. It’s then that she knows everything will be okay.

 

“So you’re not mad?” Therese asks, glancing over at Abby.

 

The woman shakes her head. “No. I’ve said that a dozen times already, Belivet.” She takes a sip from her wine, and while Therese knows Abby is happy for her friend, she can also see the caution in her eyes. It’s in each and every one of their gazes, she thinks, in blue eyes and in green and in brown. They all know this can’t - or  _ won’t,  _ rather - last during the campaign. And if Carol wins?

 

Therese shakes her head.

 

Abby is just about to speak up, no doubt to put to words what they have all been thinking, when someone knocks on the door. Therese and Carol freeze because the sound is all too familiar. Abby just rolls her eyes and sets down her wine glass.

 

“Come in,” she mutters, and the door opens to reveal Florence, a junior campaign staffer.

 

“Um, the mail just came in for you, ma’am, and Genevieve said I should bring it in,” Florence mumbles, head down submissively as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and hesitantly hands a stack of mail to Abby.

 

She turns to Therese just as she reaches the door. “There’s something in there for you and Mrs. Aird as well,” she says quietly, and with that, she disappears.

 

Abby mutters something about Florence being a passive, terrified little girl who will never survive in politics as she thumbs through the letters. Carol chuckles and sits back. “How long do you figure we have until they start wondering about us out there?”

 

Therese shrugs, knowing they should go back to work but enjoying the wine with everything inside her nonetheless. What’s a few more minutes to them? “We probably have a while. Or at least, I  _ want  _ us to.”

 

Carol smirks, her eyes taking in the sliver of pale skin that becomes visible when Therese crosses one leg over the other, her skirt riding up ever so slightly in the process. She wonders how long she has until Carol grows impatient and pulls her into another office for a midday rendezvous. Probably only an hour or so.

 

(Not that she’s complaining or anything.)

 

“Hey, Florence was right. There’s something addressed to you guys in here,” Abby says suddenly, instantly pulling Therese from her thoughts. “No return address, either. That’s odd.” She hands a manila envelope to Carol across the table, and Therese instantly stands up to move behind her and inspect the parcel. She rarely receives mail here, having specified that most of it go to her apartment, and she  _ never  _ gets anything addressed to two different people. Certainly not Carol, anyway. Therese feels a sudden prick of worry bite at her, but she suppresses the emotion and waits patiently as Carol tears open the folder.

 

By now, Abby has come to stand beside her. They peer over Carol’s shoulder as she pulls out a thick stack of papers.

 

What they see shocks them all.

 

It’s photo paper, thick and glossy. At first, all Therese can make out in the first image is darkness. But as she looks closer, squints ever so slightly and leans against Carol’s back, she realizes it’s two people  _ kissing  _ in the darkness - no, not just two people, two  _ women  _ \- and then she looks again and realizes it’s her. And Carol. Carol is wearing the dress from the gala, and Therese’s hand is on her waist, and it’s such a tender moment that it disgusts her to realize that someone else was sharing it, was exploiting it.

 

Therese sucks in a breath. The room is silent. With trembling fingers Carol flips through the other photographs, revealing the two of them on the roof, in the parking lot of the hotel, in each other’s arms. There’s a few of Therese’s car in Carol’s driveway, of her stepping out of it and into the blonde’s home. The last few pictures are of the following morning: Carol peering out the window as Therese slips back into her car, wearing the same clothes from the night prior. In one Carol is smiling gently. In the other she’s blowing a kiss.

 

Therese stumbles back, feeling sick to her stomach. She can see the tension in Carol’s shoulders, knows the exact moment that her gentle muscles tensed up and grew taught and nervous. She feels it in her own. She feels it  _ everywhere. _

 

“Shit,” Abby mutters, and Therese can tell by how low her voice is that she’s just as shocked as the rest of them. “Shit. This is bad.”

  
Therese just nods, open-mouthed, because is there really anything else to say?


	8. ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: their situation worsens.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

 

Therese looks up from her briefcase to see Dannie peering down at her, boyish features shadowed with concern. One look at her best friend and she knows she isn’t going to be able to keep any of this from him. 

 

“Not really,” she says quietly, sorting through a few papers on her desk as she decides what to take home with her. “We should talk about it, if you have an hour tonight.”

 

She’s never this open with Dannie, despite him being her best friend and closest ally. Therese has always preferred to solve problems on her own, but after what she just discovered with Abby and Carol… She isn’t sure this is something she can tackle solo. At the very least, she should confide in someone before moving forward.

 

(Someone other than Carol.)

 

“Of course,” Dannie responds easily, sitting on the edge of her desk. “Let’s go out for drinks at that bar down the street from my place. Does seven work?”

 

Therese nods. It’s only five, but after fretting with Abby and Carol in her office over what to do about their current situation for two hours, the campaign manager had suggested she go home early to relax and clear her mind. While Therese would normally object to losing time at work, right now, a break from this place is exactly what she needs.

 

“Alright,” Dannie says, sensing her need for space. He’s always known her so well, detecting just when to back off or come a little closer. His presence here now does more for her than words ever could. “Well, I’ll see you tonight, then. Call me if you need anything.” He gives her a playful salute before turning and leaving the room.

 

Therese spends a few more minutes packing up some things she can work on tonight, despite Abby’s suggestions of taking care of herself and getting to bed early. She knows she won’t be sleeping tonight. How could she, when there could be someone taking pictures of her through her window?

 

Therese is closing her laptop and reaching for her keys when a soft knock sounds on the door. “Come in,” she calls, half-expecting it to be Dannie, or perhaps Abby. She is surprised when Carol walks in, although she knows she shouldn’t be. She’s been avoiding her ever since they’d opened that envelope and their world had come crashing down around them.

 

Carol says nothing as she walks in, shutting and locking the door behind her. Therese watches silently from her chair, wanting to turn away but not being able to. She should tell the woman to leave. Her mind grows foggy whenever she’s in Carol’s proximity, her brain consumed by anything and everything  _ Carol,  _ and that is certainly not the state she should be in right now. She needs to be sharp, focused, attentive. She needs to be away from Carol.

 

Still, these thoughts melt into the fog in her mind the moment the woman steps in front of her and leans down to kiss her.

 

Therese instantly responds to her touch. Carol cradles her face ever so gently, her thumb brushing against Therese’s porcelain cheek, and suddenly she feels overcome with sadness, with loss. Maybe it’s the gesture, so tender and  _ loving,  _ that makes tears prick at the corners of her eyes. 

 

“No,” she whispers softly, pulling away from Carol. Carol sighs but doesn’t fight it. Her hand drops from Therese’s cheek and she steps back, looking at her with tormented eyes. 

 

They stare at each other for a few moments, both wanting to speak but neither knowing where to start. “We need to talk,” Carol finally says, and Therese is surprised by the calmness in her voice. 

 

“Is this what you call talking?” Therese asks, and there is spite in her voice that she never intended for. She knows she’s just taking out her frustration, her  _ fear, _ on Carol, but the woman doesn’t deserve it. She feels a sting of shame and looks down.

 

“Therese…” Carol murmurs, and moves forward, but thinks better of it almost instantly. She takes another step back. It feels like miles separating them, vast oceans and foreign continents and dark forests between them.

 

It makes her sick.

 

“We need to figure out how to move forward, Carol,” Therese says quietly, still avoiding her gaze. Carol nods. “I know. Abby’s already coming up with plans, and said that when we meet tomorrow morning, she’ll have something figured out. We can trust her, Therese.” Therese envies the confidence in her lover’s voice as she says it, wishes she too believed that Abby can fix things for them. But she’s always been a skeptic. Those doubts have never been more evident than they are now.

 

Therese just sighs, reaches for her briefcase. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Carol nods, but when she speaks her voice is soft with a sadness Therese has never witnessed in her before. She hates that she’s the one to bring it out in the woman. “So you don’t want to talk?”

 

Therese looks up then, because she can’t stand to avoid Carol’s gaze any longer. “Of course I want to talk. But right now…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders helplessly. “Right now I’m tired, and I’m stressed, and I’m…” Her eyes well up with unshed tears again and she looks down, not wanting Carol (or anyone, for that matter) to see her like this. “And I’m scared.”

 

A soft whimper falls from Therese’s quivering lips, and she hates herself for it. She hangs her head in shame but doesn’t move, because she can hear Carol moving towards her and needs the woman’s touch more than anything right now. 

 

Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling of gentle arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a firm hug. Therese lets her forehead rest against Carol’s shoulder, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Therese lets herself cry. It’s only a few miserable sobs, too short to provide any real relief or reassurance, but she’s in Carol’s arms and somehow that is enough.

 

It has to be, Therese thinks as Carol clutches her tighter. It has to be.

 

The moment she feels a hot tear fall onto her cheek, Therese lets out a shaky sigh and pulls away. Carol doesn’t object. She just smiles softly, but her eyes are sad and say that maybe, they should be comforting each other rather than moving apart.

 

Therese wants to believe that. She does. But it seems like every time they’re together, their situation only worsens. 

 

“We’re going to fix this,” Carol says simply. Therese knows the woman is trying to sound reassuring, but there’s more worry in her voice than comfort. It only cements the fear biting at Therese, quick and sharp and the beginning of something so much worse.

 

“I know,” Therese responds, but it feels like a lie.

 

.

.

.

 

Therese is on her second glass of wine when Dannie calls and says he won’t be able to make it.

 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says over the phone, and Therese can hear the regret in his voice as she glances around the bar disinterestedly. “It’s okay, Dannie,” she responds easily, but she can feel loneliness settling in behind the indifference in her voice. 

 

A moment of silence follows her words. “Have you started drinking already?” Dannie asks, and Therese laughs, wondering if there’s already a slur in her words. “I’ve had a glass of wine. That’s all.”

 

Another heartbeat passes, and when Dannie speaks again she can hear the worry in his tone. “Are you sure? Because if you’ve had more, I can send Jack to pick you up.” Therese immediately begins to object, but her protests are drowned out by the sound of her friend’s voice. “You know what, I’ll call him up and he can come in my place. He’s just laying around the apartment anyway. He needs company.”

 

_ You need company.  _ Dannie doesn’t say it, but Therese knows that’s exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m fine, Dannie. Really.” Therese raises her voice to sound more clear and composed, because she knows her friend is worrying about her. But she’s okay. Or at least, she will be.

 

“Are you sure?” Dannie says again, and Therese laughs quietly. “Yes. Now go. Finish working so you can get home to Jack. He  _ does  _ need company, and that company should be you. Not me.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Dannie says over the line. “But tomorrow I’m taking you out for breakfast, and we’re going to talk. I promise.”

 

Therese agrees to their plans, but in all reality her mind is incapable of processing the thought of tomorrow. How is she supposed to move forward into a new day? How is she supposed to fix this? How will she be able to wake up in the morning, with Carol or without, and face the prospects of the woman she loves losing the election because of  _ her? _

 

“Goodnight, Dannie,” she says, ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest as she hangs up.

 

The line goes dead. She orders another drink - just for the hell of it.

 

Several minutes pass, and as Therese clutches her glass like it’s some kind of life vest she takes in the people around her: couples sitting in the booths behind her and lonely drunks at the bar, drowning their worries in vodka and scotch and whatever drink they can get their hands on. They aren’t much different from her, she thinks, and feels a wave of frustration and misery roll over her. 

 

Therese never thought she’d come to pity herself.

 

She’s sipping the last of her wine when she notices someone slip into the seat beside her. Out of the corner of her eye she can make out a thick, burly figure and, knowing it’s a man, she deliberately turns in the other direction. Therese is in no mood to deal with unwanted advances tonight, and something tells her that’s exactly what this is going to turn into.

 

Therese sets down her glass and prepares to leave. Just as she moves to get up, her body still turned away from the man, she feels a hand reach out and grab her wrist. 

 

She exhales sharply, partly from fear and partly from  _ anger.  _ When she turns around, she comes face to face with her interferer: Richard Semco.

 

(She probably should have expected this.)

  
“So, Terry,” the man begins, fingers still wrapped around her wrist, “What’d you think of those photos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the late update. i've been busy lately and unfortunately, this story has to take a backseat. but i appreciate those who have checked up on the story and left comments - it's still the greatest motivation and means a lot!


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